A weapon of war must be welltaken care of
by LadyThompson
Summary: Considering how he acts in the few times we see him in the series, one just has to wonder..how difficult was he to deal with as a child?
1. Default Chapter

Dirandau: "Rrrr…that damned strategos has gone completely nuts if he thinks I'm going to do that…"  
  
He held a paper in his hand, stating what he was to learn for the next month.  
Dirandau: "Fucking economics….I don't need that! What does a soldier need to know about economics for war?? You go in, kill people….and that's that….no money involved…."  
  
The messenger just stared straight ahead. He hated bringing messages to that brat.  
  
Dirandau thrust the paper back in his hand.  
Dirandau: "Unbelievable....rrr...."  
He then said something low and unintelligible, and went over to his desk. The messenger took this as meaning that he could go. He started for the door.  
Dirandau ran at him full-speed, taking him to the ground. He then proceeded to beat the messenger with as much vehemence as possible.  
  
Dirandau: "I didn't give you leave to go!!"  
Dirandau got up, and stepped back. The messenger clasped a hand to his bloody jaw  
Dirandau: "Now you have my leave to go. Take that paper to Folken, and tell him he can go fly off the roof of this ship if he thinks I'm really going to study those things...I'm sick of his decisions…"  
Messenger: "Please, forgive me, but I can't do that."  
Dirandau glared at him.  
Dirandau: "And...why not?"  
Messenger: "He isn't seeing anyone today. It's sort of a...day off for him."  
Dirandau: "I don't care! Go and see him anyway!!"  
Messenger: "But...I'll be executed if I do that...."  
Dirandau: "And, your point is.....?"  
  
The messenger blinked. Now he was in real trouble. If he did go, he'd be executed. But, if he didn't, he'd lose everything he had gained, because he'd have upset the precious creation of the sorcerers. He might even end up as fodder for their experimentation.  
Dirandau tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for an answer. Tap, tap, tap....like a metronome of doom.  
  
Messenger: "Forgive me, sir...it was not for my own safety that I suggested that. It's just...well....if I were executed, then I wouldn't be able to get back here, and tell you whether he had listened to me or not."  
  
The messenger fidgeted nervously, as Dirandau glowered at him.  
  
Dirandau ripped the paper away from him.  
Dirandau: "Rrr.....you idiots are nothing but trouble...."  
He walked away, saying something about how pathetic other people are, and wondering why the hell he had to do things like this himself.  
  
The messenger rolled his eyes.  
:: "It's not like he does anything here all day, anyway...."::  
He hurried along his way, glad to have been saved from death for another day.  
Folken was leaned against the back of his chair. He was exceedingly tired this morning. Hundreds of requisition forms to fill out....orders to make...recruits to look over.... and about a million other things he couldn't remember at the moment.  
Ever since he had left his position as a sorcerer, he'd felt a need to prove that he was still loyal to Dornkirk-sama. .Dornkirk-sama had been unhappy that one so intelligent left a position where intelligence is greatly needed.  
So, Folken tried to appease him by doing as much work as he could possibly find.  
He was glad to have a moment to himself. Quiet solitude...the silence felt like cool water all around him. He closed his eyes, and heard the distant lull of violins, playing melodies of Fanelia. Sometimes, he just missed it so much....the beautiful lands....the people...his family.....his dear brother, Van.   
He sighed.  
He had wanted so much to protect his brother from everything. That gentle soul was meant for better things that fighting. He'd often imagined that maybe Van would be a writer, or a poet. Never a king, and most definitely not a fighter.  
He sighed once more.  
Now Van would have no choice but to rule Fanelia one day. And, there was no one who could prepare him now...they didn't understand him like Folken did.  
  
::"One day, Van....we'll be together again, one day....when peace comes to Gaea, and all her people are-"::  
  
The doors to his quarters slammed open, expelling him from his peaceful thoughts.  
Dirandau: "Stratetgos! I demand reparations for this!!"  
Folken stared at this very loud young man, wondering just how he got past those guards.  
Folken: "Who are you?"  
Dirandau: "That doesn't matter!"  
He threw the papers at Folken.  
Dirandau: "I want you to fix this…now!"  
  
Folken rubbed his tired eyes, and looked over the paper{{{{…that he'd written at about 4:00 am….after about three hours of sleep….in bad lighting….  
Aya, his hand-writing there was terrible…it was obvious that he'd been overly tired when he wrote it. Or, maybe it just looked bad because he was tired now?  
:: "Have…to…stay….awake…." :: {{{{Maybe we shouldn't include this?}}}}  
  
It was just an average requizition form. There was one made out every month for every single recruit in the Zaibach army. This was a way of ensuring that all soldiers got everything they needed, such as uniforms and food. It also ensured that they were kept on a rigorous training and studying schedule. That was how Zaibach was able to have such young soldiers.  
  
He couldn't find a problem, so he laid it down on the table. He yawned, and stretched, seeming to have forgotten that Dirandau was there.  
  
This, of course, infuriated Dirandau. It seemed that Lady Patience avoided him altogether.  
Dirandau: "Well????"  
Folken opened one eye.  
Folken: "Well….what?"  
Dirandau: "Rrrr……Aren't you going to fix this??"  
Folken shut his eye again.  
Folken: "No, not now. I see no problem with those papers. Now, leave, and I hope you appreciate the fact that I haven't had my guards 'escort' you away."  
Obviously, Folken intended to say no more.  
  
Dirandau glared at him.  
Dirandau: "I'm...not…..leaving…till..you….fix..this…………"  
Folken completely ignored him.  
No one EVER ignored Dirandau….ever!  
Dirandau ran at Folken, and attacked him. He struck Folken's prosthetic arm. He recoiled in pain, clutching his poor injured arm.  
  
Folken stared at him, surprised by his audacity.  
Folken: "Who is your commanding officer? I need to know who is responsible for such an irresponsible, reckless recruit."  
  
He still clutched his arm, which was now red and throbbing.  
Dirandau: "Y..you are….."  
  
Folken blinked. He didn't remember ever seeing this boy before….and, certainly, if he were in charge of him, this boy would be better behaved….  
He looked at the papers again. He hadn't bothered looking at the name before….Dirandau Albatou. He was quite puzzled.  
  
Folken: "What exactly was your problem with this?"  
Dirandau pointed out some of the areas of study Folken had put him down for.  
Folken: "And….the problem with those is….what?"  
Dirandau: "They're useless to me. I'm not taking them."  
Folken: "How would you know what is useless for you to learn?"  
Dirandau looked indignant at the fact that someone would even dare question him.  
Dirandau: "I just know."  
Folken looked down at the list again.  
Folken: "You don't think you need to learn strategy?"  
Dirandau: "Ha! Of course not! I know what I'm doing, I don't need someone to teach me how to go in and attack someone…"  
Folken: "Without a plan, you'll fail at many missions."  
Dirandau glared at him.  
Dirandau: "I'm not arguing with you….Just fix thi-"  
Folken: "There will be no more discussion about this. You'll do as you are told."  
Dilandau began glaring at him. However, due to Folken's blank facial expression, Dirandau figured out early on that he wasn't going win in a staring contest.  
He eventually gave up, and started for the door.  
  
Dirandau: "It doesn't matter….I'll just have to do what I did with all those other useless subjects you've given me in the past."  
  
He would've continued walking, but Folken grabbed him by the injured arm.  
Dirandau: "Aya!!! Let go…..!"  
Folken refused to comply.  
Folken: "What do you mean…what you did with all the others?"  
Dirandau laughed.  
Dirandau: "I don't do anything I don't think I should. I just..sort of……threw them out the window."  
  
Folken stared at him for a moment.  
  
The sorcerers had intended Dirandau to be a leader…to lead important missions for Zaibach. Because of all the work they'd done on him, he'd be a great help in the war effort.   
However, in that 'interview' with Dirandau, Folken found him to be irresponsible, brash, tactless, reckless, immature..…Most definitely not even an adequate leader, let alone a good one.  
And, with his education, or lack thereof, he wasn't qualified to take any other sort of job, either.  
  
The news that Dirandau wasn't so far along as Folken had thought was a bit alarming. Not only did they expect Dirandau to be a top leader, but they were also planning that he be made one soon….most likely within a year or two.  
This was very bad.  
  
:: "If only his caretakers had just come and told me…" ::  
If they had told him about this, he could've taken care of it..it wouldn't be such a huge problem. As usual when dealing with children, the problems they gain as children become worse when they reach adulthood….like a warp in a wood wall.  
  
Folken sighed. This was one of the disadvantages of Zaibach's rigidity. It instilled great loyalty in the soldiers…but the cost was that they were terrified of admitting a problem existed. [No one in Zaibach knew the meaning of the phrase, "Don't shoot the messenger."]  
  
Folken released Dirandau's arm. Dirandau took this as permission to leave.  
Folken: "Stay where you are."  
Dirandau rolled his eyes, and glared at Folken…a difficult feat to perform with one's facial features.  
Dirandau: "Why should I? You're not doing anything for me."  
Folken: "Because I have a higher rank than you, Lieutenant. That's why."  
  
Folken picked up a large pile of those papers he was looking over, and handed them to Dirandau.  
Dirandau: "What's this for?"  
Folken: "You are going to help me. I need to take these down to some of our warrant officers."  
  
He was going to get rid of all those extra duties. The warrant officers kept track of who did what. Even the generals had to submit plans to them. [Though, Folken was probably the only higher-up who actually came down to them in person.]  
  
Dirandau: "Why???"  
Folken: "Don't ask, just do it."  
Dirandau narrowed his eyes at Folken. Folken did the same.  
Dirandau: "No."  
And with that, Dirandau dropped the papers all over the floor.  
Folken: "Pick those up."  
Dirandau folded his arms. Foolish man….to make such a request from one such as Dirandau. Didn't he know that Dirandau never did anything he didn't want to? Didn't he know that Dirandau was in control of everyone around him? Foolish, foolish man…  
  
Folken sighed, and picked them up himself. It was going to take a lot of work to get Dirandau into shape.  
{{Sorry that this chapter was short.  
I just didn't feel the need to lengthen it just so that it would be deemed proper.  
  
And, as for my system of rank….I'm just taking liberties with the US navy system of rank [Since I happen to be a sailor], and…well, just my imagination (I've yet to see any real system use the phrase "Higher-up" when describing their officers.)  
  
Okay…that's all for now.  
Happy trails.}} 


	2. Chapter 2

{{Okay, it has come to my attention that I didn't even bother to mention how old Dirandau is, and that maybe some people are wondering.  
Well..uh….the reason is….I haven't really decided on that yet. ::Sweatdrop::  
  
I'm thinking he's probably somewhere between ages 8-11. He has to be old enough that he'd been in Zaibach for awhile, but still not really close to the age he was in the series. That way, I don't have to go through a lot of the discovery that children go through, but there is still room to talk about him growing up.  
[Eh…yeah…that makes sense^_^]  
  
I also realized that I forgot something else.  
For the time being, Dirandau has blonde hair and blue eyes. Since Serena had it, I'm pretty sure that Dirandau would have had it too, unless one of the sorcerers was a fashion-oriented kind of guy, and was trying to make a statement.  
::Smiles:: Of course, I'm saying this because I have an idea for why his hair is silver.  
Okay, now that that's over-with….one with the fic!}}  
  
  
  
PART 2  
  
It was early morning.   
  
Folken woke himself up.  
This was not a natural ability, but one he had learned from other members of Zaibach. All people of Zaibach had to learn to do this. They had to be ready to go anywhere at a moment's notice. It was a necessity of anyone who lived in a dictatorship.  
  
He had been dreaming again. As usual, the dream was about the poor brother he had been forced to leave behind.  
::"Would that I had never taken that cursed dragon-rite…."::  
Indeed, perhaps it would have been better had they never even been born royalty. Average citizens don't have to deal with things like that.  
  
He shook his head, and stood up. He had work to do…work that would bring peace to Gaea. That was all that really kept him going.  
Peace…..now, that'd be nice. And, it would ensure that his brother would survive.  
Van couldn't survive otherwise….At least, not the way he was. He might live on, but he'd change. He'd become something other than that gentle soul. And, who knows? He might even someday find that he loves to fight, to prolong this destiny of war.  
  
Folken blocked those thoughts from his mind. They wouldn't help him now. He couldn't be thinking of Van right now. It would distract him too much from his work.  
He looked at a clock.  
It was only about three AM.  
::"He'll probably be tired now."::  
Folken was guessing that Dirandau was the type who preferred to sleep in until two o'clock in the afternoon.  
He had also come to the conclusion that Dirandau was a very lazy little boy, in need of some kind of motivation.  
  
So, like any good teacher, he thought he'd go wake his student up in the middle of the night, and maybe knock some sense into his head while the boy was too tired to refuse it.   
However, his plan was flawed. Dirandau had been up for hours, practicing with his sword. Folken nearly lost his other arm when he entered the room.  
  
Folken: "What are you up to?"  
Dirandau didn't even bother to stop practicing while he was talking.  
Dirandau: "There's a competition tomorrow. And, I intend to win it."  
He hadn't noticed the time flying by. He thought it was still night-time, not early morning.  
  
He slashed once more at the air.  
Folken: "I'm sure that winning at these competitions would require lots of practice in your off-hours, and you probably don't-"  
Dirandau: "I practice all the time."  
  
::"So…he does have some motivation after all…we just need to put it in the right place."::  
Folken: "Well, you'll have to stop for now."  
And Dirandau did stop. But, not because Folken had ordered him to. It was because he was surprised at Folken's audacity.  
Dirandau: "You can't tell me what to do right now! It's not even working hours."  
He was about to start practicing some more, but Folken took the sword away from him.  
Folken: "Those who ignore orders for years have to make up for their insubordinance. You don't get any time off from now on, unless I say so."  
  
This was completely exasperating. Dirandau didn't know how to deal with it. No one had ever treated him so disrespectfully before.  
  
Folken: "Ah, silence….I see you're learning something already."  
That statement brought Dirandau out of his paralysis.  
Dirandau: "Give me my sword now, or I'll-"  
Folken: "I'll give you fair warning. From now on, if you yell and complain like you've been doing, or try to give me orders, I'll make certain you regret it."  
  
Well, now…what was there to say? Dirandau was realizing that this man was not like others. He could defend himself. He obviously was capable of more than what Dirandau could tell. It frightened Dirandau to not know what someone was capable of. It destroyed his assurance that he knew everything.  
  
Folken: "Do you understand?"  
Dirandau nodded.  
  
Folken: "Good. Then, starting today, we're going to take up all those studies you've ignored. Don't worry, I'll help you. They won't be so difficult."  
Dirandau just stared off to the side. This was completely incomprehensible.  
  
Folken: "If you don't give me too much trouble, you might be allowed to watch some of that competition today, but I'm not promising anything. It all depends on you."  
Dirandau blinked.  
Dirandau: "What do you mean, I might be able to watch the competition? You're telling me I can't compete in it?"  
Folken: "You've obviously worked hard on your swordsmanship. You need to concentrate on something else for awhile. And, you have no right to complain about this. You're the one who decided to break the rules. You chose to give up those studies for something else, so now you've got to pay for that choice."  
  
Dirandau glowered at Folken. It was one thing to tell him that he had to go do certain things. They weren't all that important anyway, so he could deal with it. It was only a slight annoyance., and he'd probably find some way to get out of doing them.  
But….to take away something he cared about so much……that was intolerable.  
  
Dirandau: "I'm going, and there's nothing you can say that'll stop me!"  
He reached for the sword, but Folken backed up too quickly for Dirandau to reach it in time.  
Dirandau: "Rrrr….give that to me, damn it!!!!!!"  
Folken: "I told you that you'd regret that…"  
Folken unsheathed the sword, and smashed it on the floor.  
Folken: "You see? You'll have to do the things I tell you to, some way or another. No one is allowed to compete in those matches without a sword. You couldn't be in them now, even if I did allow you to go."  
  
But Dirandau wasn't listening. He had sunk to his knees, and was staring at the shattered pieces.  
  
How could Folken talk like that, when Dirandau felt so terrible?  
Something he cared about that much….how could it be so easily destroyed….?  
Slowly, those tears came. He didn't remember ever crying before. No one had ever done anything like this to him….just to hurt him.  
  
Folken just stared on, not letting any emotion show in his face.  
It was his intention to make Dirandau feel bad about this. If Dirandau didn't feel there was anything to fear in doing things the way he had always done them, he wouldn't try to become any better. He was justified.  
That type of thinking was necessary for anyone who had been a sorcerer.  
  
He kneeled down on the floor next to Dirandau, and began picking up the metal pieces. They were sharp, and Dirandau might hurt himself if he touched them.  
  
After a little while, Dirandau just curled up on the floor like a cat, his arm wrapped tightly around his stomach. He looked completely pitiful.  
  
Folken just sat back, watching. He was patient. They could sit here for days…he didn't mind.  
This was the only way to turn someone into a soldier. Break them down, then build them back up. Even though it hurt them, it would be worth it in the long-run. It would make them stronger.  
Dirandau would cry now, but after he was done training, he would never have cause to cry again. He would be able to handle anything. Folken just hoped there was enough time to finish with him.  
  
Dirandau didn't move from that spot for hours, at least seven. He couldn't. He didn't think his legs would ever work again.  
And he felt sick…and he couldn't seem to dry his eyes…  
He thought maybe he was going to die, that maybe Folken had somehow managed to make him ill.  
::"That bastard will pay for this!"::  
  
After some time, he lifted his head, and looked over at Folken.  
Dirandau: "Why are you still here?"  
Folken: "Oh, are you finished now?"  
  
Again, he hadn't bothered to look up while replying.  
Dirandau allowed his head to thunk back down on the ground.  
::"Why the hell is my life ending like this?"::  
Dirandau: "No."  
Even if he had to die like this, he still wouldn't cooperate with Folken.  
  
Folken shifted a paper around.  
Folken: "Well, if you don't make up your mind to be finished now, you're certain to be finished on a battlefield…and right quick, I might add."  
Dirandau turned and stared at Folken. It had been inconceivable…..he couldn't die on a battlefield…..but….he wasn't invincible anymore, was he? No, no…he was most definitely not undefeatable. He shivered. He thought of that report someone might be reading one day.  
  
'We regret to inform you that Lieutenant Albatou was killed in the midst of battle, his sword shattered in the midst of battle.'  
And, would whoever heard that message care?  
No…  
He could see them, casting the note carelessly aside.  
'Well, he was easily defeated. We'll just have to hope the next soldier is better, won't we?'  
Folken didn't respond to the fear that was in Dirandau's eyes. he just repeated to himself that this was necessary.  
Folken: "And, does it not occur to you that there will be other competitions, and that a new sword will be requisitioned for you later? Such short sight isn't going to get you very far when planning battles."  
  
Dirandau became flustered at Folken's words. He knew what he was doing. He was good at anything. This idiot couldn't just come in here and insult him like this….he could defend himself!  
Dirandau: "You're one to talk about being a soldier. You're an office-boy…you've never even been in a fight!"  
  
Folken shut his eyes.  
Folken: "You presume much about my past."  
Dirandau: "Oh? I'm wrong?"  
Folken: "Yes. About a great many things."  
Dirandau: "Rrrrrrr…."  
He hated dealing with people who liked to give mysterious answers, those people who liked to make themselves feel intelligent by coming up with cute things to say.  
Folken: "However, if you study with me for a bit, I will teach you…and then you won't be wrong. I'll even let you go see some of that competition. How does that sound?"  
Dirandau laid his head back down on the floor. He could hold out forever, he was sure of it. Folken wouldn't win over him.  
Five minutes later, they began studying.  
Boredom and curiosity were two things that always had the ability to destroy Dirandau.  
  
They were in the middle of economics.  
Folken: "And, if there's a drought in this country-"  
He pointed to a spot on a map.  
Folken: "Why would that be bad?"  
Dirandau: "Because…that's a farming country that Zaibach depends on."  
Dirandau rolled his eyes. That wasn't the right answer. It may have been the one he was supposed to learn, but he knew it wasn't the right one. It was the question that was screwed-up.  
:: "What would be so bad about it? We could just go get those farm-goods from some other place. Why the hell should I care??" ::  
  
Dirandau still hadn't realized why his country was in the situation that it was. It could make nothing of its own, except soldiers. The land was barren…there was nothing in it, but a bunch of poor people, with no where else to turn.   
However, he had never seen those lands. He hadn't seen the people…those poor people, who carried burdens greater than that of the god Atlas.  
He could do nothing but assume that his country was the best in all things, that the people, whoever they might be, were well satisfied with their lot in life, and that everything was good.   
  
Folken: "Correct. You're learning fast."  
He smiled down at Dirandau.   
It was wonderful to be teaching someone again, to be away from all those activities tied to war.  
Teaching his little brother had been one of the great joys of his childhood. It took away from that horrible realization that one day, he would be king…he would be in charge of fighting wars and the like.  
Van would be the same age as this boy. Folken wondered what he was thinking now.  
  
Dirandau: "Folken!!!"  
Folken's mind had trailed off. He hadn't heard the last five times Dirandau had yelled at him.  
Folken: "I'm sorry…"  
He snapped the book shut.  
Folken knew he shouldn't test Dirandau's patience too much, now that he had gotten him to oblige.  
Folken: "Perhaps we've been working too long today. Why don't we see how far underway that competition is getting?"  
Dirandau nodded enthusiastically. He had almost gotten over the disappointment of the morning.  
Before they could go, Folken had to take care of something. They walked down many corridors, until they reached a crossways. It was a nice large space, almost like a lobby.  
There was a line of soldiers on one side. They were receiving a verbal lashing from their commanding officer.  
  
Folken: "Wait here for me, and don't move from that spot."  
Dirandau nodded, not really paying attention to him anymore. He was more interested in the line of soldiers.  
They weren't recruits. They had good high-ranking uniforms on.  
:: "They must be the dregs of their class…" ::  
It was often practiced to have the worst soldiers whipped into shape by some of the best commanders in the army. It was hoped that those who were well-versed in intimidating would be better at motivating these recruits.  
  
Commander: "We should've recruited farmers. At least they know some useful skills!"  
He gripped one of the soldiers by the collar.  
Commander: "Tell me, why does Zaibach tolerate such worthless creatures as you?"  
Soldier: "I….I….d…don't know…..sss..sir…"  
Commander: "Well, that makes two of us."  
He threw the soldier to the ground.  
  
Dirandau grinned. This was wonderful…watching a real leader at work.  
:: "I want to be like him some day." ::  
  
The other soldiers stood trembling in their places. They hated this commander with more vehemence than any prisoner towards his warden.  
Commander: "You will remain here, silent and at attention, until I see fit to come and get you."  
He walked off, glad to be away from them. He hated dealing with little underlings. He was to be getting a promotion soon, and he was anxious. Every day, he wondered when he would get his papers. He had become even more abusive, because of his impatience.  
  
As soon as he was out of sight, the soldiers got out of their lines. They all sat around, and started talking. The subject of conversation? All the different ways they'd like to see their commander die.  
They all started joshing around. Some played cards or marbles [A very popular activity among soldiers of Zaibach], or told jokes and stories. Any chance to live as normal people do was taken with relish. {{{Not mustard.}}}  
  
Dirandau was wide-eyed at this. They had just received a big lecture on respect…on why they had to shape up. And….and…they didn't even care.  
He trembled with anger. They weren't following the rules. Everyone was supposed to follow the rules. Everything had to be done right, everything had to be perfect. Because, if it wasn't perfect, it was intolerable. There was something about it…it just drove Dirandau mad. If everything wasn't perfectly in order, then it couldn't possibly make any sense, it couldn't be depended on. For some reason, it frightened him.  
  
He walked over to them, despite the fact that Folken had told him not to move.  
  
Dirandau: "What the fuck do you people think you're doing?"  
The others blinked, and looked at each other. What was wrong with this little boy?  
Dirandau walked up to the soldier who had been thrown to the ground, who had been the loudest of all.  
Dirandau: "Don't you know how the chain of command goes?"  
They laughed.  
Soldier: "Oh….are we being tested now?"  
Dirandau: "You don't deserve to be tested. You deserve to be shot."  
  
It was almost a humorous picture. These soldiers were much taller than him. They were much bigger…they could easily have killed him. And yet, Dirandau persisted in telling them what to do.  
It was all that the soldier could do to keep himself from laughing, as his companions did.  
  
Soldier: "Aww….now you're making me feel bad."  
Dirandau wanted to punch him in the face, but he couldn't reach that high. Instead, he settled for smacking the soldier hard in the chest.  
This only received a laugh from the soldier. He couldn't feel anything through all that padding.  
  
Another soldier approached them.  
Second soldier: "Well, what do we have here? "  
He looked at Dirandau's hair. It was blond, with little patches of gray. Sometimes, children got premature patches of gray in their hair, when they undergo stressful experiences.  
Soldier: "Gold and silver….with cerulean eyes…..Oh, how adorable!"  
He gave Dirandau a shove, which sent the poor boy sprawling.  
Dirandau managed to sit up, before the soldier hit him again.  
Another soldier spoke up. He was upset, because this was interrupting his card game.  
"Ah, let him go…he probably doesn't know what he's doing anyway…"  
  
The first soldier paid the other no heed.  
Soldier: "Cripes, he's weak. What'd you do, kid? Steal that ranked uniform you're wearing?"  
Dirandau rubbed his bruised face.  
Dirandau: "I was going to ask you the same thing."  
Soldier: "You've got a lot of nerve! Nobody says anything like that to me.."  
Dirandau: "Your commander did."  
Soldier: "That idiot commander will be out of here in two weeks. He'll be a general….and we'll all be better off without him."  
Dirandau stood up.  
Dirandau: "You shouldn't disrespect him like that! Why don't you do as he told you? He's your commanding officer…you're supposed to do everything he tells you to!!"  
Certainly, Folken would've been laughing if he could have heard this. It was comical, that Dirandau was so vehement about people doing things which he never ever did himself.  
  
Now most of the soldiers were glaring at this boy. It was one thing to tell them what to do, when he was so small and weak…but, to defend that idiot! That was something they couldn't stand.  
Soldier: "I think it's time we taught him a lesson. What do you think?"  
They had already started closing in on Dirandau.  
Some others who had come to the crossways noticed the trouble. They went to go and get some help.  
  
The commander was found about five minutes later. He was very angry to have been disturbed. He had just sat down to a light meal, because he hadn't eaten anything all day, and now he had to leave it. It would probably be freezing cold by the time he got back.  
  
He pulled those soldiers off of Dirandau, who was curled up, hugging his knees, and shivering.  
There was terror in his eyes.  
Commander: "Get up."  
Dirandau couldn't comply. He really couldn't move this time. They had broken both his legs.  
Commander: "I said get up!"  
His words were harsh as sandpaper. He didn't want to waste time.  
Commander: "Damn it….you idiot. Do as I say, now!"  
Dirandau didn't move. It was like he was in some form of death, or sleep…  
  
Folken finished what he was doing, and came back outside. He was quite surprised to see this.  
Folken: "If you please, leave him alone."  
Everyone else was terrified at the site of him, and backed as far away from him as they could.  
However, the commander was arrogant. He didn't care about sorcerers. He knew they wouldn't do anything to him, being such a high-ranking man. It was only the young, inexperienced ones that had to worry.  
  
Commander: "Don't you dare order me around. I won't have it. You hold no power whatsoever…and I can do what I like. You haven't got anything to do with this situation, so go bother someone else."  
Folken: "On the contrary, he is in my charge. Now get away from him."  
The commander did so.  
Folken bent down, and picked Dirandau up.  
The commander raised an eyebrow.  
Commander: "In your charge? And who is he? Or, more appropriately…what is he?"  
Folken: "Just a lieutenant. Hardly someone who concerns you."  
  
The commander glared at him.  
Commander: "Yeah, right. He's one of those 'experiments', isn't he? Rrrrrrr……I hate that! You idiots…your fooling around makes a mockery of this army, you know that??"  
The soldiers smirked. It was nice to have that bastard yelling at someone else for awhile.  
Commander: "I'll never take one of them into my troops. Never…."  
It was a good thing that Folken didn't believe in the superstition of the 'evil eye'. Because, that was the look he received from the sorcerers when he brought Dirandau to see them.  
  
He had taken Dirandau back to his quarters first. He had thought that Dirandau would be fine in a few days…he was just a little bit shocked from the experience. But, he wasn't fine in a few days. He stayed in that same position, unblinking, unmoving. He wouldn't eat, or sleep. Folken would've thought he was dead, were it not for his faint pulse.  
  
The sorcerers were very angry with Folken. They wondered if he was possibly trying to sabotage their work.  
  
The mark of traitor was the hardest to wash oneself of in Zaibach. It would have been considered a sin, if anyone there had believed in the concept that something a person did could lead to them being damned for all eternity. They were far more intelligent than that. They knew that there was nothing they had to worry about in the here-after. They might become ghosts, but that was the extent of their after-life torment.  
  
  
It was decided that Dirandau had to be made more recognizable, and that more people had to learn about him. They had been slightly secretive about him before. If no one knew that he was any different than a normal soldier, Dirandau would've been more easily accepted by them.  
  
However, this incident proved that theory to merely be wishful thinking. He couldn't be around normal people, not like that. They had to let everyone know who he was, and make him easily recognizable.  
If people knew who he was, and what punishment awaited them if they were to hurt him, then they certainly wouldn't do anything to him.  
  
The sorcerers changed the tint of his eyes from blue to red. All his uniforms would now be dyed to match that. No one else had red in their uniforms, which made this idea very effective. That uniform became a thing of fear among all the others.  
  
They gave him a drug, which they gave all their experiments. It was aptly named "Amnesia." It completely veiled an experience which happened just before a person received it. Depending on how much they gave him, he would forget a week, a month, a year…there were so many years missing from his life. But, that was the way it had to be. Those years weren't his. They belonged to someone else, from a far off land. And, she would be forever stuck in them. The sorcerers couldn't get rid of her, though they tried. They could only keep her hidden, and silent.  
  
Dirandau returned, much the same as before he had left. They fixed his legs, and he no longer had any bruises. Nothing to remind him of what had happened…except his hair.  
Something unintentional was that now his hair had almost turned completely gray. No matter what they tried, they couldn't get rid of that colour. It was the only mark of the trauma they had put him through which they couldn't erase.  
  
Much the same, and yet much changed…  
  
  
  
  
{{I don't know what time system is used on Gaea, so I'm just using ours. It makes things easier for me.  
  
Oh…um….and I think I probably should have noted this before. I've been reading through some of my fics, and realized that I haven't been such a good little editor.  
  
Sometimes in the stuff I put up there are little things like this.  
{{{{{Aya….should I really do that?}}}}}  
Those are just personal little notes for me, while I'm writing, so that I don't have to go nuts trying to make everything perfect all at once.  
[Yah, you probably figured it out before, or didn't care….but I thought I'd mention it anyway.]  
I thought I had solved the problem of my forgetting to take them out by putting so many of these things {{{}}} around the words to make them stand out more, but I guess I was wrong.  
::Sighs::  
I don't think this story is turning out as well as I had hoped. But, maybe it'll turn around when I get to start writing about the DSlayers. ::Huggles them:: They're all wonderful…  
Okay, now for reviews.  
  
Feye Morgan: Thanks….I'm glad you like it.  
Heh….technically, I don't think it matters if you backtalk Folken.   
  
Etowato: Yeah, poor Dilly….but, he's not the only one who has to deal with those control-freaks. And at least he gets denial and everything, so he technically doesn't have to experience it..  
  
RyoOhki020: Er….rrr…..okay, I can't fight it. I do admit what you say is true. Dilly isn't the nicest person in the world. ::Understatement alert::  
But, I like him anyway. ^_^  
[And, I'm hoping that's a good sign with characterization…because, if I can get people to dislike my a character, even when they're my favourite, then I must not be molly-coddling him too much.]  
  
Hitomi-no-Hikari, and Terra: ::Grins:: Thank you for your praise. ::Bows:: I do try.  
  
Okay, now I'm off to finish the next chapter of "Everyone will help you"  
Eh….I've been having some issues….so, Dilly's not having a good day in that chapter, either….  
O_o  
::Random complaint for today::  
FFN eats formatting....  
::Huggles everyone::  
Happy trails!}} 


	3. Chapter 3

{{Okay, this is set a few months after the last chapter. Dirandau and Folken have been working together on these studies a lot, and although he's not doing very well with them, he's doing alright. [It's not because he's not smart. It's because he's very bored with them.]}}  
  
  
  
PART THREE  
Folken: "Stop laughing. It's not that funny."  
Oh, but it was! Dirandau couldn't even stop giggling long enough to make some snitty comment.  
Folken: "I told you to stop laughing."  
Cripes, what a foolish order to give someone like Dirandau!  
  
And, what had befallen our dear Folken?  
He had decided to give Dirandau a chemistry lesson. Dirandau had always held the belief that chemistry was boring, from the first lesson book that he had glanced through.  
Folken decided it would be better to start at one of the more exciting lessons, to try and get him interested.  
And, all little boys love to see explosions, right?  
  
Dirandau hadn't ever done much with fire before. It was just something that was used in lamps, so that people didn't fall over things while they were trying to walk around the Vione. He didn't think it could possibly serve any purpose.  
And then….eheheheh…  
  
Folken was showing him how one could mix chemicals to get different coloured flames. Not exactly exciting…more like mildly amusing.  
A rat had crawled across the floor, and Dirandau had turned to pay attention to it. This angered Folken, who was really starting to despise the fact that the sorcerers hadn't bothered to give Dirandau the capacity for patience.  
"Oh, he doesn't need it. And, we're not giving him anything he doesn't need."  
Those fools….  
They had made him perfect for being in a war, but they didn't give a damn about how hard he would be to deal with when he wasn't fighting.  
  
Folken didn't pay attention to what he was doing. He turned to whack Dirandau upside the head, and his cloak brushed against one of the burners.  
It's amazing how flammable those things are.  
  
The instant he saw Strategos all ablaze, Dirandau was hooked. Those flames…Words to describe their beauty eluded him.  
Well….all words but one….  
Moero!!!  
And now they were walking down a hallway, to get an extra set of clothes for Folken. Half of the outfit he was wearing had been completely charred, along with most of his hair. He was quite a sight to see. Half-naked, with those big beautiful black wings, being followed by that insane, giggling little boy.  
Dirandau calmed his laughing a little when they reached Folken's quarters.  
Dirandau: "Oh, fuck off, Strategos….it wasn't that bad."  
Folken: "…….."  
That was another thing Folken intended to fix. He didn't know who was responsible, but Dirandau had such a vulgar dialect. If he were ever to represent Zaibach in any way, that kind of language wouldn't go over well with other countries.  
  
His closet was out of order. It took him a moment to find all the pieces of his uniform.  
As usual, Dirandau got bored waiting. And, there was a question annoying him.  
  
Dirandau: "Why do you have those things?"  
Folken: "What 'things'?"  
Dirandau didn't know what they were called. He'd never seen anything like them.  
Dirandau: "Those…black…things…on your back. What are they?"  
Folken: "My wings? Well…they're for flying."  
Dirandau: "Flying?"  
Poor Dirandau. There was so much he hadn't learned yet.  
And, they hadn't allowed him to step outside the ship. Ever. It had been deemed unnecessary for him to see the outside world yet. Not until he had to go out and fight in it. But…it left him so incomplete.  
What goes on in the mind of one who has lived their whole life inside a cage?  
To one who sees steel and concrete, instead of grass and trees?  
He didn't even know what the clouds looked like.  
And, because he hadn't ever seen it, he couldn't care about it. He couldn't think about those beautiful things when he was alone by himself. He had nothing to think about when he was alone, except steel.  
  
Steel…..that's what a sword was made of. It shined, and made sparks when struck against other steel. And it sliced so wonderfully into other people. It got rid of problems for him. It was one of his best friends.  
  
Folken: "Yes…flying. Soaring through the air."  
Dirandau still didn't understand.  
Folken: "Never mind. You'll understand it some day."  
He wished that he could just show Dirandau now. But, he could never show anyone. A lesson he had learned well from his mother, Varie.  
  
Still…he wanted to fly…  
To feel wind on his face, to fly around, as if there weren't anything to care about. He could go with his brother. He remembered with a smile those times he and his brother would sneak off into the mountains, and take off.  
To go where the hawks fly, and have the choice of never coming back down again. That was something he could never do again.  
  
Why did people have to hate those wings? Wings are wondrous things, that allow people to touch the skies…to feel what it is like to be a part of the wind.  
  
It felt like death sometimes, this desire to fly. It was like a part of himself was drowning.  
  
He slowly covered his wings up. He remembered how he used to hate doing that.  
"Mother…why do I have to do this?"  
"Because, dear…they want to kill you."  
It was a terribly blatant thing to say, but then Varie hadn't quite been feeling herself that day. Someone had made an attempt on her life that day, because she was draconian. Many were angry, because now the royal bloodline was impure. Gaou couldn't have done worse if he had married a beast-girl.  
  
There was such hatred he endured that he would never care to see again.  
The family had all tried to protect his brother, Van, from it. But, to no avail.  
Those with wings to fly can not hide it, and it becomes like a curse when in the midst of fools who do not see what a gift flight is.  
  
:: "Cursed are those that have wings to fly, and never are allowed to use them." ::  
Dirandau: "What are we doing today?"  
He smiled hopefully.  
Dirandau: "Are we going to study more of that chemistry…stuff?"  
Folken shook his head 'no'.  
Folken: "We're never studying chemistry again."  
Dirandau didn't exactly need to study it…and, well…Folken didn't want to risk anything like that happening again.  
Dirandau: "But….but I like it!"  
Folken: "I'm sorry."  
Dirandau folded his arms, and stamped his foot.  
Dirandau: "Well, I'm not studying anything else with you, either. So there!"  
Folken smirked.  
Folken: "Oh, we're not studying anymore today."  
Dirandau: "What?!"  
Folken: "You've caught up on just about everything. So, today you get to do something else…"  
That wasn't exactly true. He hadn't finished catching up on everything, but the sorcerers were impatient. They wanted to know how he would fare in dealing with people now. They had tired of seeing how far his mind would go in areas of study. It was time for a different experiment.  
  
Dirandau was quite happy. Anything was better than studying!  
Dirandau: "Lovely! I'm going to go and practice this new technique I read about-"  
Folken: "I didn't mean that you get to have the day free for yourself…just that we're doing something other than studying."  
Dirandau rolled his eyes.  
Dirandau: "We're not taking care of paperwork again, are we?"  
Folken: "No. You're going to meet some people."  
Dirandau raised an eyebrow at him.  
Meet people? What the hell was that supposed to mean?  
Folken: "You haven't met any of the other soldiers, and I think it's about time you did."  
Dirandau: "Why?"  
Folken: "Because, if you are ever to be in charge of them some day, you'll have to get to know them."  
Dirandau: "Why?"  
Folken: "Because a good leader has to know his troops."  
Dirandau: "Why?"  
Folken: "Because that's the only way to be effective with people when working together."  
Dirandau: "Why?"  
Folken: "Because…it's just good policy. And, don't ask me why again."  
Dirandau: "Why….not?"  
Folken stared at him, eyes flat. Dirandau smirked. He just loved annoying people. And he was so good at it, too.  
  
Folken: "That's enough. I think it's about the time when they all start their training. You'll probably want to see how well they fight."  
He could see that Dirandau was going to ask that annoying question again, and so he beat him to it with the answer.  
Folken: "Because, you'll be choosing the men who will be under your command, and you'll want to be sure and find the best."  
Dirandau blinked.  
Dirandau: "It doesn't matter which ones I choose."  
He sounded quite surprised that Folken hadn't realized this.  
Folken: "Oh? And why is that?"  
Dirandau: "They're Zaibach soldiers. Any soldiers I get will be excellent, because they are in this army."  
Folken: "Dirandau, if you follow that logic, you're going to get yourself hurt. While I agree that Zaibach is wonderful, sometimes it makes mistakes, and - "  
Dirandau: "Shut up! That's the talk of a traitor!!"  
He gave Folken a hateful glare. Loyalty was Dirandau's one unbending virtue.  
  
But….maybe that doesn't really count as one of his personal virtues.. He couldn't help being loyal. He didn't know any better.  
And, if he did know better, he would be brainwashed, and thus sent back to that state of complete loyalty.  
  
Perhaps this is one of the reasons that it was so easy to look at him as something other than a person. Anything he thought or felt…how could it be anything other than what they meant him to felt?  
Nothing he had was his own, not even his mind.  
  
Folken knew that he couldn't argue about anything with Dirandau, when the question of loyalty was brought up. So, he decided to pull rank on him.  
Folken: "I don't care. You have to do this because I said so. That's the end of it."  
Dirandau stamped his feet.  
Dirandau: "I won't do it, you @#$#@^##$^ traitor!"  
Folken completely ignored this outburst. He found that if he ignored Dirandau, then he could get the boy to do just about anything in time.  
Folken: "I think you'll be impressed by some of those soldiers. This group has been working especially hard."  
'Especially hard' was an understatement. Anyone of the soldiers who wasn't doing more than his best in practice had obviously lost his mind.  
  
They had all heard the news….an elite group of soldiers was to be formed. Chosen by Dirandau Albatou himself!  
  
It wasn't that they respected Dirandau, or anything…but, they knew that it took skills of the highest caliber to match up to his expectations. They also knew that someone had to be perfect in order for him to give them anything other than an insult. Not only that, but they'd also be able to see him fight…to see the great prowess which Zaibach possessed.  
Indeed, this was a fantastic honour, and those glory-starved young soldiers would have done anything to join.  
  
They were not told when Dirandau came to the training-quarters. The higher-ups had wanted this to be a true testing. But, that didn't matter. Some saw him in the back, and the rumour spread quickly. Now everyone was showing off as much as they possibly could.  
  
Dirandau was highly unimpressed by what he saw.  
:: "What's the matter with them? They should be better than this…" ::  
Dirandau: "Folken…are these really the soldiers you meant to show me?"  
Folken nodded.  
Dirandau: "This is absolutely pathetic…"  
  
It took him twenty minutes before he finally saw a half-way decent fighter.  
Dirandau moved closer to him.  
  
The boy was relentless. One would have felt sorry for his sparring partner, who was trying his damndest to keep his footing.  
The other was weak, but this boy didn't care. He knocked the other to the ground, then knocked him unconscious. Weakness wasn't acceptable anyway, so his partner deserved what he got.  
  
:: "Good form, good footwork, very aggressive…more aggressive than necessary, but that's okay. It's better to be too aggressive than not aggressive enough. He has potential…" ::  
  
Dirandau walked back over to Folken.  
Dirandau: "What's the name of that one?"  
Folken had someone look it up on a list for him.  
Folken: "Lavariel, Miguel."  
Dirandau made a mental note of that name.  
Dirandau: "He's definitely going to be one of mine."  
Folken: "You don't know anything else about him yet."  
Dirandau: "I don't need to. Someone that can fight like that will definitely do well on a battlefield."  
Folken: "Yes, but there is other criteria to consider as well. What if he's a coward?"  
Dirandau: "Then I'll make him fear me more than the enemy."  
Folken: "And, what if he's a traitor? Because, you know that you can't tell those types just by looking at them."  
That was a low-blow to Dirandau's ability to judge people. He had braggingly told Folken that he could spot a traitor a mile off. Folken asked if he was what Dirandau would consider a traitor. Dirandau replied no…and then he had the pleasure of finding out that Folken had become a traitor to Fanelia. In Dirandau's way of thinking, a traitor was a traitor, no matter what country they had betrayed.   
Dirandau: "Then I'll kill him, and replace him."  
Folken: "You'd be so willing to kill one of your men?"  
Dirandau: "If he did something wrong."  
Some of the young men overheard this…and became immediately worried. They had heard that Albatou follows some very messed-up logic. It was nearly impossible to tell what he would thing was 'something wrong.' They'd be in danger of dying every single day.  
Folken: "Then, you'll have a hard time keeping any soldiers at all."  
Dirandau shrugged.  
Dirandau: "It's not my fault that everyone else is so completely screwed-up."  
Folken: "Regardless, you have to have more than just one reason for choosing your soldiers."  
Dirandau: "DON'T TELL ME WHAT I HAVE TO DO!!!"  
There was complete silence in the training hall. Dirandau was seething with so much anger that he didn't seem to notice everyone around him staring at him.  
Dirandau: "You may have the authority to tell me to do certain things. But, these are going to be my soldiers. I will choose them based on my qualifications, and not yours!"  
Folken sighed.  
  
The young soldiers were in awe. This never ever happened in Zaibach. In order to be able to yell like that, a person had to go through years and years of hell. That's why all the generals were older men. It was supposed that an older person would be wiser by default, and therefore wouldn't go screaming his head off without reason.  
No one their age was ever allowed to have any semblance of power. In fact, if any of them had ever dared to scream at someone like that, it was a fairly certain thing that they would be executed on the spot. [No one had ever dared to try something like that, so they weren't very certain of what the punishment would be.]  
  
They watched, still awe-struck, as Dirandau raged out of the room.  
Some began whispering to each other, about whether they had changed their minds or not. Nearly all had decided that, despite the problems they would have with him, what they would gain would make it all worthwhile.  
They went back to practicing.  
Folken soon followed Dirandau out of the room.  
Folken: "You should learn to be a little quieter."  
Dirandau: "It wouldn't matter if I did. You don't listen to me anyway."  
His demeanor was far different from the two extremes he normally followed. He was either completely light and sarcastic, and doing his best to annoy someone he didn't like, or he was in a terrible rage, where all he wanted to do was to completely destroy someone.  
But, this….he was serious, angry, and tired. He sounded as if he'd just lost his heart.  
Folken: "What are you driving at?"  
  
Dirandau shut his eyes.  
Dirandau: "Why do you have to do that to me?"  
Folken: " I'm only trying to help you."  
Dirandau: "Don't help me."  
  
He looked generally upset. It wasn't that overly-dramatic act that he put on sometimes when he couldn't get his way. This was straight from the depths of his feelings…perhaps the first time Folken had been given the chance to see what Dirandau was really like, on the inside.  
Folken: "You need my help."  
Dirandau: "You don't understand!"  
Dirandau wanted to throw something at him, or hit him….but, he knew that would end badly.  
  
Dirandau: "If they're going to be my soldiers….then I have to be the one to choose them. I know what I'm looking for. I really do know what I'm doing. You're just not listening to me."  
Folken: "If you make a mistake with the people you choose, then you'll regret it for the rest of your life."  
Dirandau: "If I make one of your mistakes with the people I choose, then I'll regret it."  
  
Folken really did not understand what this meant to Dirandau. It was his life they were planning out here. He would have to depend on these soldier, or die with them. He knew what parameters he could deal with, and understand. He knew exactly the kind of people that he needed. Folken shouldn't be interfering with that.  
Being a leader meant everything to Dirandau. It was all he wanted to do with his life. To go out there, to fight…that was all there was to life. Nothing else mattered.  
  
Folken: "Very well. I can tell that you've thought much about this, and that you aren't just being flippant. I won't interfere with your choices. All I ask is that you at least give some of the other ways that I have come up with a chance."  
That was a lie. Folken would never really let Dirandau do this on his own. Anyone he didn't approve of wouldn't make it. But, there was no reason to let Dirandau know that. There were ample excuses to give as to why a soldier couldn't join.  
Especially medical excuses. Dirandau knew nothing about medical science, and wanted to know nothing….and so, any excuse in that area would be enough.  
  
Dirandau: "Fine.  
:: "I'll play along with his stupid little game…but, I'm not going to use anything he says." ::  
  
It was a good thing the two couldn't read each other's thoughts.  
  
Folken glanced at a clock.  
Folken: "Hmm…it seems about time for lunch."  
Dirandau: "I'm not eating anything. I just want some coffee."  
Folken: "No, no, no! No coffee for you. We're not reliving that incident again."  
Dirandau rolled his eyes.  
Dirandau: "It wasn't that bad…."  
Folken: "You ran all around the ship, screaming at the tops of your lungs."  
Dirandau: "So?"  
Folken: "And then you went and threw all your textbooks in the showers. They'll never be useable again."  
Dirandau smirked. That wasn't due to the coffee…that was just because he knew he had an excuse to do it.  
Folken: "It wouldn't be so bad if it was just coffee alone….but, do you have to pour a whole cup of sugar in it every time you drink it?"  
Dirandau: "There's nothing wrong with sugar. I like sugar.."  
Folken: "There is a problem if the wrong people eat it! You're already hard to deal with, without you getting yourself so hyper."  
Dirandau: "Maybe you should eat some…maybe it'd help you get a personality."  
Folken: "There's nothing wrong with me."  
Dirandau: "Oh yeah? Do this."  
He did one of those wonderful smiles that he was famous for.  
Folken stared at him.  
Folken: "Alright, now you're asking too much."  
Dirandau cracked up laughing.  
Dirandau: "Oh, it's not hard….."  
He pushed the corners of Folken's cheeks up.  
Dirandau: "There, just like…..ugh.."  
Dirandau stared at him a moment, a little surprised.   
Dirandau: "On second thought-"  
He pushed them back down.  
Dirandau: "You should stick with what you're doing.."  
They continued on their way.   
  
Folken looked….frightening when he smiled. It reminded him of something. Some half-remembered nightmare, perhaps. There was something about a person in a cloak, smiling at him like that. It was almost sinister.   
Dirandau shuddered.  
The more he thought about it, the more frightening it seemed.  
So, he decided to stop thinking about it, for now, and concentrated on how he could possibly get some coffee.  
  
  
  
  
{{::Grins:: Another chapter done! Weee!  
  
Please, pardon me for not even trying with some of Dirandau's swearing. I don't swear all that often……and, I don't know any good statements. And, seeing as Dilly likes to be good in just about everything, I'm sure he'd be a lot better at it than me. So, it's just easier for me to use "comic strip swearing," and let y'all just pretend.  
[::Giggles:: Yes! Fill-in-the-blank expletives!]  
  
Um…and, I don't know the heights of the characters, either.  
  
Feye Morgan: Oh, the Madoushi aren't that bad. They're just doing their job. [Although, granted, they should care about him more…]  
  
::Giggles::  
Aya!! Of course I'm going to use the marble game!  
It's too cute to forget about!  
[And it's been stuck in my mind too.^_^]  
  
Etowato: Don't worry, Missy Etowato! ::Sends chibi-Dilly over to you with the cute little bunny of happiness….which happens to get charred before he reaches you.::  
Er…uh…well, I just wanted to say that everything's fine.  
I'm not about to go jump off any roofs, or anything.  
  
And, I think the way this is going is similar to how Dilly's life goes. There are times of great fun, where it's just hilarious, and you really wish you could be there doing what he's doing….and then there are the bad times, where nothing is going his way, and he's basically getting tormented, and drugged-up, and brainwashed.  
Like some little creature stumbling around in the black, that nobody really cares to help, except when it helps them.  
  
I'm thinking that this story will neither have a happy nor sad ending. It'll simply have a good closed-off ending.  
  
::Sighs:: Yes, poor Dilly-sama….I think pride is a crutch for him, when life is just really really screwed up..  
  
La-ha! Yup, that's why I chose the title.  
  
Eeegh! Yeah….Folken isn't exactly treating Dirandau like he says that people should be treated.  
I guess it's just one of those things where he's looking the other way, because he knows it has to be done for the future.  
That's what makes him like Dornkirk-Sama.  
Aroura: Um…well, I've always been under the impression that not giving too much ideas on setting, clothing, and such is a good thing. You can have a good play with a blank stage, but if your story isn't up to par, then no one will care if you have the most beautiful set in the world.  
I'm much more of a 'feelings' person. And I'm not all that great at describing objects, unless of course I'm using them to come to some great realization, or saying that they also have feelings too.  
[And, if I were going to do that, I'd probably also work on getting rid of the 'script' format for dialogue.]  
So…nope, sorry….you don't get much more description of clothing and settings by me, unless of course, it matters to the story.  
But, thanks for the suggestion anyway.  
  
Could you explain what you mean by "difficult"?  
  
Yeah, I've got more characters coming. Namely the DSlayers and everybody's favourite guy, General Adelphus.  
::Is glared at by Dilly::  
  
Um….and, I also have to figure out what happened to Nariya and Eriya. Because, it sounds like they got sent somewhere for a long time, when they said, "Thinking of you was the only thing that kept us going."  
  
And….I'm also going to talk about where the hell that tiara came from. [I'm sure that I'm not the only one who has wondered that.]  
  
Aya…so, I've managed to let Dirandau and Folken look bad….and, I think I may manage to make the Dslayers look bad.  
::Cringes::  
I dunno what to say, except that I have to re-iterate that I like them all, even with the faults which I perceive that they have.}} 


	4. Chapter 4

{{Ayeee….it's never going to stop amazing me that there is absolutely no definitive list of characters' names in Esca (And it's probably that way in other anime too, but this is the only one I really know.)  
  
I'm sorry if I don't get the right names for any of the Dragonslayers, or if I don't include one.(I'm thinking of a soldier named Ryonne, or something like that. I know absolutely nothing about him, or even what he's supposed to look like.)  
  
Dirandau and some of his companions were having a bit of fun, waiting for a meeting to start. He was quite popular there. Nearly everyone wanted to spend time with him, if they got the chance. He was enigmatic and very interesting.  
  
In some societies, soldiers play cards in their off-hours, but here in Zaibach, the favoured type of play was with marbles. Most everyone carried them, in little bags.  
  
Right now, they were playing a game that Dirandau had come up with.  
  
It was to practice how to strategically place troops, and how to attack.  
  
Dirandau: "Alright, Migueru. Do your best."  
  
He watched on, as Migueru tried to figure out how to ensure that no attack from Dirandau could kill all his troops. Such a difficult task.  
  
Dirandau had already found three people he wanted to be in his command, who were at his side at that moment. Migueru, Guimel, and Kotei.  
  
Dirandau had chanced upon meeting Guimel.  
  
He had been waiting for Folken, because of something foolish that he couldn't remember. There was a group of soldiers, taunting a young man with a very odd haircut.  
  
He attacked them verbally and physically. He was tough.  
  
Dirandau surmised that he must have been forced to defend himself like that all his life, and that kind of tenacity would definitely be useful on the battlefield.  
  
Kotei had always been an overachiever. He had a list of awards and merits the size of Texas.   
  
Dirandau was glad that he had found Kotei's name while looking through records. He seemed just perfect…until Dirandau saw him. Kotei had the misfortune of needing glasses. That was very bad when it came to guymelef fighting. The glasses were too apt to fall off, and then the fighter would be useless.  
  
However, his merits and talent were far too good to pass up simply because of that. There were ways to make glasses tailored to the specific needs of a guymelef pilot, even though they did happen to be a little restricting in regards to fighting. Besides, Dirandau would only need about six men on any given mission. He wouldn't have to use Kotei all the time.  
  
As for Migueru…Dirandau never did check over his record, like Folken suggested.   
  
He refused to be told what to do by Folken when it came to things like this. Migueru was too good to pass up, and from his experience thus far, Migueru would also be fiercely loyal to him.  
  
And, the four had been spending a great deal of time together, getting used to each other. They'd start training fairly soon, when Dirandau had gotten at least half the number he needed. They felt very lucky to be able to spend time like this, just being people interacting with people. It was rare to be able to get a frank look at the higher-ups, if a person were only some nameless part of a group. And they'd always remember Dirandau this way - as a young man, on the brink of a very exciting life; always happy and hopeful, and full of high expectations. At first, they'd only been glad that they would be so respected, that they had such a high position in the army. However, once they got to know Dirandau, they began to care deeply for him. He seemed so happy, and yet….so frail.  
  
No one else was ever that happy. Not in this sterile, cold environment. It was difficult for the young soldiers enduring it to ascertain just exactly what was wrong. They couldn't stop being miserable, and there was no one else that they could talk to about it. Many just went along with it, hoping for better things in the future. They hoped that maybe this feeling would end once they were allowed to go to actual battles, instead of constant drills or other exercises which became meaningless after so much repetition.   
  
However, the feeling never did go away. It only lessened with the distraction of battle. To see someone die at one's own hand…that was something real. That was something tangible. It made perfect sense, and seemed to make everything else understandable.  
  
Migueru finished setting up his country.  
  
He smiled.  
  
Migueru: "I think you'll be pleased with this one."  
  
He had made several rectangles connected together, in the form of one of those imaginary countries they used in battle drills. He wondered if Dirandau would be angry with him, for beating him.  
  
However, that fear was not one he had to contemplate for long. Dirandau simply smiled, made the shot, and killed every last one of those marbles.  
  
Migueru looked on in shock.  
  
Dirandau: "Don't expect me to ever ask you to help plan out troop placement."  
  
Dirandau wrote some numbers down on a nearby notepad.  
  
Dirandau: "You owe me thirty credits now."  
  
Migueru handed over the last of his credits, only 10.  
  
There was no such thing as money in Zaibach. They didn't need it, because every necessity was taken care of. However, the leaders realized awhile ago that it became very difficult to motivate these soldiers to become better if they had nothing to obtain. Awards and medals could only go so far, and if they handed them out to everyone that needed motivation, they would lose their meaning.  
  
Therefore, someone came up with the idea of credits - little pieces of metal that could be used to get extra things. Food was a popular one. Candy, and other things that aren't very healthy, were never provided to the soldiers. They were expected to live off of what the nutritionists deemed necessary. However, a small treat now and then seemed to lift their spirits. And, because credits were difficult to get, then the soldiers wouldn't overdose.  
  
There were the extra uniforms. Uniforms were hard to take care of, very difficult to keep clean. They had to be in perfect order all the time. It was useful to have at least one extra around. That cut maintenance time in half, and nearly all the soldiers who got a second uniform were better at their jobs, because they could concentrate more on them.  
  
And then there were the 'frivolous' items. The ones that served no purpose whatsoever, except to bring pleasure, such as books or civilian clothes. One man was known to have bought thirty evening gowns, which seemed foolish because no one was ever allowed to wear anything except their uniform or their undergarments. When asked why he had spent so much on them, he simply replied that they were beautiful and he liked them, even if they did just sit in his closet.  
  
These things all came from foreign countries. They sat in a large storeroom, where anyone was allowed to go. It was to the soldiers what other countries would call a 'marketplace.'  
  
All of these things cost a large amount of credits. That was why the lower soldiers had so little. It would take them a long time to save anything up. At most, they might be able to afford a book, or a piece of jewelry. However, since that was something they could call their own, something different from what everyone else had, it helped them immensely. They had something that they could aspire to, something that would affect them personally.  
  
"If I work hard, I can get this," was a prevalent thought.  
  
The better a soldier was, the more credits they could earn. Dirandau often bragged that he had enough to buy twenty guymelefs with. Some thought that was an exaggeration, but it wasn't. Folken had started using them as bribery to study without complaint. There was nothing Dirandau really wanted, but Folken told him that he could also use them to buy time to be by himself and do whatever he wanted. There was nothing like the promise of getting rid of Folken for at least a little while to motivate Dirandau.   
  
This had been the tenth game today. Dirandau decided he should take a break from it for awhile, and started back for his quarters. However, Migueru was still puzzling over what Dirandau had just done.  
  
Migueru: "If you please…sir…how did you do that so easily?"  
  
He was trying to get used to calling Dirandau by title, but it was odd to be calling someone his own age 'sir'.  
  
Dirandau came back, and started laying out the marbles into two different designs. The first was exactly like what Migueru had laid out.   
  
The other design was different from the type everyone else made. He had made several little groups, and there were huge gaps between each of them.  
  
Dirandau: "You set yours up in squares, or circles, or other familiar things like that. But…"  
  
He shot one, and manage to knock them all over again.  
  
Dirandau: "When you set your troops all in a line, right next to each other like that, then it becomes very easy to knock them all out, one by one. All I have to do is get the first one, and that will take care of all the others for me."  
  
He then shot at his own design. He managed to get one group, and the rest were untouched.  
  
Dirandau: "You see? Only one group was killed. The rest are intact, and if they were real people, they'd be able to come after the troops shooting at them. If you spread out, then it's harder to find out where you are, and how large your numbers are, and planning is very difficult for the enemy."  
  
It was a good thing for Dirandau that he didn't remember in the least bit what he'd told Folken about how useless learning strategy was.   
  
Dirandau scribbled down on the notepad again.  
  
Dirandau: "And that makes it fifty credits, for having not figured that out yet."  
  
Dirandau smirked, and walked away, leaving Migueru to contemplate the lesson, and to wonder how he was ever going to be able to pay that debt.  
  
Dirandau was very happy with himself these days. In about a month, he'd have chosen all his soldiers, and they would be able to begin training. No more useless studying, no more spending so much time preparing for the future. And this was only a short while before he'd earn a promotion. Everything was bright and exciting.  
  
He walked down the cafeteria. 1 credit was equal to a bag of sugar candy. Folken had banned Dirandau from eating anything with sugar in it, but since Folken wasn't here there was no reason not to take advantage of the opportunity.  
  
He walked happily back to his quarters, munching on the candy. Nothing could've made this day bad. Well….almost….  
  
He turned the corner to a dark, deserted hallway. At least, he thought it was deserted. He continued walking, until he practically tripped over two young soldiers, doing who-knows-what. They were all surprised at having run into one another, and the situation was awkward. Dirandau ate one more piece of candy while he thought of what to say.  
  
Dirandau: "What the hell are you two doing down here?"  
  
Their clothes were completely in shambles, and not put on the right way. One of them stood at attention.  
  
"Forgive us, sir. We are Liezel and Cora. We apologize for disturbing you, and we'll leave now before causing anymore-"  
  
Dirandau: "You still haven't answered my question."  
  
Cora explained that they were to be separated the next day, and they'd never see each other again. Very bashfully, he said that they had wanted just one night to remember each other by. Everywhere that they were normally allowed to go to was in use, and this darkened hallway was the only place they could find privacy in.  
  
However, Dirandau didn't believe that story. If what they were doing was innocent, then why would they have to hide?  
  
He intended to give them both a sound thrashing, but Cora cared about Liezel too much. He stepped forward, and took a blow that was intended for Liezel.  
  
Cora: "Get out of here!"  
  
And Liezel took off running. Dirandau tried to run after, but lovers are not easy to defeat. Cora put up a good fight, and it wasn't until Liezel had gotten completely out of sight that Dirandau was able to knock Cora out.  
  
He knew that it was pointless now to run after Liezel. He'd never be able to find that damned soldier now.   
  
Luckily, he had both their names, so it didn't matter. They'd be punished well when he turned them in. And, for their impudent behavior, he would also come and 'take care' of them later.  
  
Dirandau was exasperated. Not only was Folken unwilling to have those two idiots punished, but now he was acting as if Dirandau were wrong.  
  
Dirandau: "Folken! What the fuck is wrong with you??"  
  
He wished he could kill Folken. He planned to do it someday, when Folken wasn't in charge of him anymore.  
  
:: "I'll be a General some day, and then he'll be sorry."::  
  
Folken: "You shouldn't swear like that all the time. You'll get yourself in trouble."  
  
That was a foolish request, which led, as usual, to Dirandau shouting a series of his favorites.  
  
Folken sighed. Sometimes he wondered if this boy was hopeless.  
  
Folken: "Why do you have your heart so set on getting rid of these two? Their story seems quite understandable to me."  
  
Dirandau: "They were obviously doing something wrong."  
  
His face was set in fortitude. He was a very righteous individual, well aware of what was right or wrong.  
  
He knew that one must not ever say anything against Dornkirk. He knew that one must never associate with enemies, if they can help it. He knew that the lower orders needed constant reminding of the things they did wrong. He knew all about broad-swords and hand-to-hand-combat, and what the easiest ways to kill any given individual were.  
  
He did not, however, know anything about the sorts of things most people did in their off-hours.  
  
The only contact he ever had with others was tainted by the fact that they had to behave in an artificial fashion. The army had certain standards, and expected all of its soldiers to follow them.  
  
Folken and others in charge of Dirandau always dragged any information they could out of him, regarding other people's actions. They had turned him into a spy without his knowing, and he couldn't do anything about it.   
  
Unwittingly, he had even managed to have a favourite instructor of his executed, for conduct unbecoming his station. He had always allowed his students to use the free time they had left over as they saw fit. Dirandau had been so glad of that, that he couldn't help but tell Strategos all about it. He had often wished that instructor could've taken over for Strategos.  
  
They told him later that the instructor was a treason-ist, and was executed. Dirandau thought no more about it, and tried to forget that he ever had the least bit of respect for that man.  
  
Folken: "They were doing absolutely nothing wrong. Even if your moral convictions lead you to believe that this is something sick or disgusting, you can't truly let that-"  
  
Dirandau: "What do you mean….disgusting?"  
  
From Dirandau's tone of voice and facial expression, Folken surmised that Dirandau had no idea what those two were really doing. He was simply following the theory that anything secretive is an offense and deserving of punishment.  
  
This left Folken in a very awkward position. How the hell was he going to explain this?  
  
Folken: "Uh…I think we need to have a talk…"  
  
Through much difficulty, and a skim through a medical textbook, Folken was able to explain the whole thing to Dirandau, who was thoroughly disgusted with the whole human race now. He didn't stop cringing for an hour.  
  
Dirandau: "I don't give a damn if you say that nearly everyone does this. My soldiers will not be allowed to do this."  
  
Folken pitied the soldiers that would be working with Dirandau. They were definitely going to have to deal with a lot.  
  
Folken: "You can't control them when they're not working.  
  
Dirandau: "Then they will never be off duty."  
  
Folken: "What about when they're asleep? Or washing? You can't keep track of them all the time."  
  
Dirandau: "I…"  
  
Damnit, why did Folken always have to question him like this?  
  
Folken should have just accepted that Dirandau knew what to do, and moved on.  
  
Dirandau: "They just won't. That's all. It's not like this is a necessary thing for survival. They'll live without doing it."  
  
Folken: "Oh. So, you think you can ban romance, just like that?"  
  
Dirandau glared at Folken, very annoyed. It was very irritating when Folken constantly used words that Dirandau didn't understand.  
  
Dirandau: "What does that word mean?"  
  
Folken shut his eyes. This was too much to cover for one day.  
  
Folken: "It's a type of love. Do you know what that word means?"  
  
Dirandau nodded.  
  
Dirandau: "Oh, sure...I love annoying you, I love my katana, I love serving Dornkirk-sama, I-"  
  
Folken: "Fine, fine. This'll be easier then."  
  
Folken walked over to a locked box, and pulled out a burgundy-colored book. He handed it to Dirandau.  
  
Folken: "You read that, and it'll help make it more understandable."  
  
It was entitled, "A Heart Alove in Silence." Folken had picked it up once as a souvenir from some country a long time ago.  
  
Dirandau started to walk away, to go to his quarters to study it, but Folken refused to let him go. If anyone else found out that he was making Dirandau read a romance novel, it would be impossible to explain,. After all, why would someone who only had to know how best to fight wars need to know about that? It's not like he was ever going to feel it anyway.  
  
However, if Dirandau didn't know about how other people function, how could he deal with them? He had been so willing to have those two innocent people executed, because he didn't understand what was going on.  
  
Dirandau hadn't even gotten past the first page, when he came across something incomprehensible. To set the story, the author had started thus:  
  
"A young man walked across a field of violets, mired in emotions and desperation.  
  
His old life, gone, given up for a chance at love. Given up in one chance at love…and amounting to nothing.  
  
He was to be a great man, a leader of men. He had the respect of all. He had all the gold he could ever want at his feet, and all the servants he would ever need at his fingertips. And, he gave it all up for one chance.  
  
But, the poor girl he loved grew cold towards him. In a moment of distraction, caused by her disdain of him, he was defeated, rushed out of his homeland by a long time enemy. The enemy would search high and low through this countryside, until he found the young man, and killed him.  
  
And now the young man wandered through the violets, looking for a way out…"  
  
Dirandau: "I don't get it. If he had so much, why did he give it up?"  
  
Folken: "Because he wanted Love more."  
  
Dirandau: "And, what will love get a person?"  
  
Folken: "They say it makes a person very happy, and can make life worthwhile."  
  
Dirandau: "But it says he was miserable."  
  
Folken: "That happens sometimes. But, still…it can often be worth it in the end, or so I'm told."  
  
Dirandau: "But, his life was already good. Why did he decide to fall in love?"  
  
Folken: "He didn't decide. That just sort of…happens."  
  
Dirandau raised an eyebrow. It just sort of happens? Like the rain falling, or a person breaking a leg?  
  
Folken: "Is this making sense to you?"  
  
Dirandau nodded, just so that he wouldn't have to hear anymore about it. Folken dismissed him.  
  
Dirandau hurried out of there faster than he ever had in his entire life.   
  
Aya…did Folken really think that was necessary??  
  
Dirandau swore that he'd never ever let anyone work for him who had anything to do with…that.   
  
Love…it was some kind of disease. That was the only way Dirandau could make sense of it. Some debilitating illness, which destroys the mind and obscures a person's vision.   
  
It makes a person weak.  
  
It makes a person vulnerable.  
  
Even if idiots like Folken tolerated this, Dirandau wouldn't. And, it didn't matter if it was something natural.  
  
:: "People are naturally naked, but they don't go around like that. They cover up, don't they?" ::  
  
They could deal with it. Soldiers know how to deal with many things, and to change themselves to be able to work in given standards. And, if they couldn't, then there were plenty of consequences to suffer.  
  
And he certainly wouldn't work with anyone who was so likely to be disloyal to him. If it really was such a strong emotion, then then there would be great chance that they would rather defend their love than him. They'd always be thinking of their love. It would distract them from the fighting. And, if it were between anyone in his group...they'd always be concentrating on eachother. It could lead to a failed mission. Many failed missions.  
  
It was unacceptable.  
  
{{Ayeee..I can't believe I devoted a whole chapter to love, romance, etc. _  
  
::Cringes, and goes off to burn some random pink object, just to get rid of that girly feeling::  
  
However, he seemed to hate this little fact of life, and others who submit to it [Namely Allen]. I felt there had to be some kind of reason for it. And since this fic is my attempt to explore possibilities for why he is the way he is in the series, I thought it appropriate.  
  
.  
  
I'm very worried right now, because with the stuff I've been writing [This chapter and a new fic], people might think that's all my writing is going to be from now on, dealing with only that subject. However, my opinions and beliefs don't fall that way, and I'm usually not fond of writing about love, romance, etc.  
  
[The kinds of views I have Dirandau expressing here are really hard to get over.]  
  
So, I'm stating right out that in this fic, I'll have no more about any of this.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Okay….here's the deal with the whole thing about Folken's wings in the last chapter:  
  
If I had taken a little longer to write it, I most likely wouldn't have written that in. Thankfully, the story can live or die with out it. I won't be going back and taking it out, though.  
  
I've got many things to do…I really don't want to waste it on reworking things I've already done.  
  
I can only apologize that I'm very tired, as always, and that when I write chapters so quickly like that, all that tiredness catches up with me, and I start to forget what it is I was trying to write.  
  
If it bothers you too much, please feel free to pretend it never happened.  
  
[Which is what I intend to do.]  
  
{{And, I have a beta-reader now, so hopefully things like that won't happen in the future.}}  
  
Speaking of Folken and pretending that something never happened, I've got to mention a new fic that I'm writing.  
  
I had a dream, because of watching Esca all the way through in one day[::Smiles:: I call it 'studying'] , about Dirandau and Folken.  
  
They had to get married. _ ::Cringes at every mention of it::  
  
It's not exactly yaoi, because there's no romance between them [Or anyone else, for that matter.].  
  
Well, I found it all very interesting, and all the characters managed to stay in-character throughout the whole dream, so I felt it would make for a nice fic.  
  
I'm also going to use it as practice for using something other than script-style for writing when a character speaks. (And, it's very annoying thus far, but I hope it'll be worth it.)}}  
  
Next chapter, I introduce all the rest of the DSlayers, and they start their training.  
  
One more thing.  
  
My Chid fic is begging to be killed. I lost what I was doing with that somewhere along the line.  
  
I've got the next three chapters outline, but do forgive if I don't finish them. I've got a lot of stuff to do for the Navy, and I leave in two months. 


	5. Chapter 5

{{I decided to try for one more chapter before I left.  
  
I must say right now: This chapter is not turning AU. It just looks that way in the beginning.  
  
Happy reading, and please enjoy the last chapter I'll be writing for many months.}}  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Two hours of absolute boredom. Six speeches and seventeen promotions thus far. Dirandau was about to lose it completely. He was never one for pageantry.  
  
However, spectacle was something that all young soldiers love to see. And since Dirandau was someone they admired and looked up to, they couldn't comply with his wishes of privacy.  
  
.  
  
He had ceased to stand at attention, as the other soon-to-be officers were standing. There was no point to it.   
  
He stared up at the nearby podium.  
  
:: "Will this ever end?" ::  
  
.  
  
Finally, they called his name up. He took the papers and whatever else it was that they handed him [He couldn't remember. His mind had been numbed at that point.], and shocked everyone by leaving the room, without waiting for the ceremony to end.   
  
Some of the lower orders smirked to each other. Now that was what they wanted! The power to be able to snub everyone else, and not have to worry about any repercussions whatsoever.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Later on, Dirandau went to the hangar to get ready. He was leaving this training center, to be stationed on one of Zaibach's floating fortresses. And, Folken wasn't going to be in charge of him anymore. It was going to be wonderful!  
  
.  
  
The other Dragonslayers had already left, and he was waiting for the last of his paperwork to be checked.  
  
.  
  
Folken met up with him, for one last talk. And, just because it was Folken, it had to be a lecture on behavior.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Folken: "That was wrong of you to do. You'll have to apologize for that."  
  
Dirandau stared idly at the wall.   
  
Dirandau: "Oh, who cares about those damned ceremonies, anyway?"  
  
Folken: "They're important for morale."  
  
Dirandau rolled his eyes.  
  
Dirandau: "Morale…why do you always talk about morale? If those idiots can't motivate themselves enough to keep working, then they shouldn't be here. I don't need to worry about morale with my soldiers."  
  
.  
  
Folken rubbed his forehead. Dirandau was such a headache sometimes….er….all the time.  
  
:: "He's still not ready for this." ::  
  
.  
  
Folken didn't want to admit it, but it seemed that this whole experiment had failed. Maybe it was a mistake to even try this experiment.  
  
.  
  
With all the information that they had withheld from Dirandau, to make it easier to guide him into thinking what they wanted him to think, he didn't have the least bit of understanding of how to deal with anything whatsoever. He was a good fighter, strong and loyal, but that couldn't be put to use as intended.  
  
As a leader, he was no good.  
  
.  
  
Folken: "And when your soldiers all become so depressed that they kill themselves, don't come to me for-."  
  
Dirandau put his feet up on the table.  
  
Dirandau: "Whatever you say, old man."  
  
Folken gave him a disapproving glance, which made him smirk.  
  
Dirandau: "So…I guess without me here, you'll have to get a life of your own, huh?"  
  
Folken: "Without you here, I won't have to keep raiding the medic's office for aspirin."  
  
Folken looked thoughtfully at Dirandau for a moment. There was no need to make the last words he said to Dirandau bad ones.  
  
Folken: "And, for what it's worth, I wish you luck."  
  
Dirandau: "Hah! Luck? I don't need luck. Everything's going to be perfectly fine. You'll see. I'll show you."  
  
Folken sighed. He couldn't even give the guy a compliment. Dirandau was too hell-bent on competition, and the belief that Folken was out to get him.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau smiled as he looked his new uniform over. It was beautiful! And, it suited him so well, this creation of black and red leather.   
  
He was looking much happier than he had the day before.   
  
.  
  
Being in a new place was bewildering to Dirandau. The set-up on the fortress Akrua was so much different than a training center. He couldn't tell one corridor from another. He felt so lost.  
  
Luckily, some of his fellow officers found him in his wandering. They had been there a while, and were able to help him. They felt lucky to be of aid to him.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
This was not the first time they had met him. Many had spent time with him, playing games and such.  
  
They had become quite fond of Dirandau. They were all in their late twenties to early thirties. He was so young that they couldn't help but be reminded of the siblings and childhood friends that they had left behind. It was as if he were their little brother. Setso, the oldest among them, was particularly taken with him.  
  
.  
  
Setso showed Dirandau every place he needed to know at the moment - the training halls, the officer's barracks [Officers did not get their own rooms until their commanding officers felt they deserved it , the barracks of the lower orders, and the mess hall. After that, he was free to explore as he pleased.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
While Dirandau was off having fun exploring with Setso, the general Dirandau was to be working under was having a 'meeting' with the sorcerers about it. [Why they felt they had to go do this in person was beyond anyone else's comprehension.]  
  
Basically, they were telling him what's what with absurd smiles on their faces, and he could do little more in return than complain about how much he disliked the situation.  
  
.  
  
"Listen to me, you fools. I've said it many times before, I'll not take on any of those monsters you create. And his reputation is not one that I find appealing. Go pawn him off on someone else."  
  
The sorcerers continued smiling.  
  
Sorcerer: "Ah, but your men are the best, wouldn't you agree? We have faith in him, and wouldn't want to send him out to a group of less quality and talent."  
  
The general clenched his teeth together.  
  
"If I had known that I was to be punished thus for succeeding, I would have done my best to stay mediocre."  
  
.  
  
The sorcerers simply smirked, and handed him a list of precautions to take with Dirandau. It was much like giving someone the manual for a machine, so that they could always be sure to keep it in working order.  
  
The general threw the list right back at them.  
  
"If he is able to stand on his own, why is he to be treated in a special manner? He is no more a soldier than I am a washer-woman! I won't take him. And, if you persist in trying to force me to, then I'll kill him as soon as I see him."  
  
Sorcerer: "That's ill-advised, good sir. And you know why."  
  
.  
  
Yes, he knew why. They all knew why. Sorcerers had an unwritten type of rank. They held power over everyone, even the generals. Many of his men looked up to Dirandau. They might not be so good at their work if they felt they might be killed for no reason [For surely, the reason for Dirandau's death would never be revealed any further than to place the blame on him.]  
  
.  
  
Feeling that they had reached an understanding, the sorcerers left, still smiling. It was so easy to smile at all the others of this place. It was so easy to deny that many of the things they did were wrong, that these things did little more than disrupt lives and torment people. They did it all with a smile, a grin, a glimmer. This smile was merely another sham, to help the bigger deception along.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau found the meeting hall that was to be his. This was the place where he would be able to gather his men together, and go over any business that was to be taken care of.  
  
He smiled as he looked over every inch of it. Even though it was nearly bare, with no furnishings to speak of other than the simple lamps that hung on the walls, he loved it because it was his.  
  
He walked to the front of it, and sat down on the floor. He could picture them all standing there, lined up neatly, awaiting their orders. Finally, they would all be doing some important work!  
  
.  
  
There were so many things to take in at once. Life seemed so bright, and he had never been so optimistic. He hadn't slept in the past few nights, too excited to rest, too full of fresh hopes. And these hopes, these dreams, kept coming to him, more and more.  
  
.  
  
He yawned.   
  
All this was too much. Fatigue soon overcame him, and he fell asleep where he was on the floor. He dreamt of glory and victory.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Such dreams should never be awakened rashly, but sadly, today they were.  
  
.  
  
Setso tapped Dirandau lightly on the face, to wake him up. Dirandau opened his eyes slightly. He was still tired, and a little confused.  
  
Dirandau: "Just give me five more minutes, Folken…"  
  
He closed his eyes again, and tried to fall back asleep.  
  
Setso smirked. It was a shame that Dirandau was in trouble, when he was being so adorable.  
  
.  
  
Setso had spent a good deal of the morning looking for Dirandau. He hadn't come back to the officer's barracks, and therefore had no way of knowing that they were all supposed to meet in one of the training halls the next morning. And, since Setso was the messenger of the group, he was the one who had been told to find Dirandau.  
  
.  
  
Setso: "Albatou, get up! You have to go see the commander. Now."  
  
Setso tried to pull him to his feet, but he wouldn't allow it. He kicked and fought, and nearly injured Setso. He could fight well, even when he was half-asleep.  
  
Dirandau: "Go away!"  
  
He smacked Setso hard in the face, and curled back up on the floor.   
  
.  
  
Setso rubbed his hurt cheek. There was no time for this. Play-time was over.  
  
He picked Dirandau up by the collar, dragged him a few feet, and slammed him up against a wall.  
  
Setso: "I don't know what you were doing here all night, but you can't stay here anymore right now. Understand?"  
  
Dirandau murmured a 'yes', and Setso let go of him.  
  
General Adelphus was furious at the fact that Dirandau had been so insolent as to not follow orders. Doubtless, the sorcerers had imparted in him the same arrogance which they were thoroughly soaked in, and the little brat was expecting an easy time of things.   
  
.  
  
Adelphus: "Do you happen to realize how busy I am? This morning was the only chance I had to review the officers I've been sent. You didn't show up, and now my schedule is completely off-kilter because I've had to take out this time to explain things to you."  
  
Dirandau yawned. He was too tired for a lecture.  
  
Adelphus took this yawn as a well-placed sign of disrespect, instead of the mere sign of fatigue that it was.  
  
His tone of voice was full of mock-amiability.  
  
Adelphus: "Oh. I'm boring you, am I? Perhaps I'd do better to find something that would capture your interest, then."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
After that, Adelphus kept Dirandau very busy with menial, unimportant tasks. Scrubbing floors, running several miles at a stretch, or even doing Setso's paperwork [Which was extensive]. He didn't have any time to work with his Dragonslayers at all.   
  
.  
  
They all sat around in boredom, waiting for a chance to start training again. They had their own training room, but weren't allowed to use it unless their commander was with them. Some of them became depressed, which was both a product of boredom and frustration. They were finally supposed to be working on important things. They had been looking forward to starting their first mission. And, now, they had to wait indefinitely. All because one of those damned generals had taken a vendetta against Dirandau.  
  
Migueru went as often as he could to see how Dirandau-sama was fairing. The two were good friends, and it was some small comfort to see him every once in awhile.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau grew to despise any form of clerical work. Therefore, Adelphus made him do that more often than anything else. By the end of the week, Adelphus had switched Setso's and Dirandau's duties, so that Dirandau was taking care of all of Setso's paperwork, and Setso was looking after the Dragonslayers.  
  
.  
  
This upset Dirandau more than before. Setso had no men to take care of, because of the position he had taken as Adelphus' lead messenger. The way things were going, it seemed as if Adelphus planned on completely switching the positions of the two. Dirandau would never get the chance to see battle. He'd become an 'office boy'…just like what he used to call Folken.  
  
This depressed him to no end. He couldn't concentrate on anything. He became more and more ill-tempered, and he couldn't help insulting everyone he came into contact with. Setso and the others feared that he might lose that childish happiness he had always shown.  
  
He wanted to quit. But, he was determined to take it. Adelphus had made it perfectly clear that he didn't think Dirandau could take being a real soldier. Dirandau was determined to prove that wrong. And, he still held the belief that the generals were good people. They always knew what they were doing. He was certain that this was only a testing phase, and that Adelphus would stop treating him this way once it was over. He had to hang onto that hope.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau stood, ashen-faced, in front of Adelphus. He had screwed up a very important piece of paper, again. Clerical duties were just not something he was good at.  
  
This paper was supposed to have Senior-Chief Petty Officer Kelleher's signature on it. Without that, it was worthless. This had caused several problems, and another pile of paperwork was required to fix the problem.  
  
.  
  
Adelphus: "You're such a screw-up! This is the fifth time this week that you've failed your duties. What are you trying to do to me? Do you want the entire department to look down on me??"  
  
Every department of the army was highly competitive. Even the clerics and the servants.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau bowed.  
  
Dirandau: "No, sir!"  
  
Of all things, he would never try to embarrass or hurt his commander. That was a sin which he couldn't comprehend the reasons for.  
  
.  
  
Adelphus glowered at him.  
  
Adelphus: "Get up off the floor, you fool. I know what you're like. You think that you're so important here…you think you're allowed to do anything you feel like doing, without regard for anyone or anything else. It's high time you learn your place, and stop trying to sabotage me."  
  
Dirandau blinked.  
  
Dirandau: "S…sabotage? I never-"  
  
Adelphus: "Don't lie to me. I know what you're up to. You think you can make life difficult for me by failing at your job. That I'll be in trouble. Well, I have news for you: I will not be made a fool of. I won't tolerate anymore of this."  
  
.  
  
Dirandau stared at him blankly. A saboteur? Adelphus may as well have called him a traitor. That cut him deeply.  
  
He could no longer maintain that demeanor expected from Zaibach soldiers. If Adelphus really meant that, then Dirandau would never get his Dragonslayers back. He would never be able to do the job he had set out to do, because Adelphus would never trust a traitor to carry out his orders.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau: "Sir, I am no saboteur. I am unable to do the job because-"  
  
Adelphus: "Silence!"  
  
He hit Dirandau so hard that Dirandau fell backwards.  
  
Adelphus: "I don't need your comments. Just do as I ask."  
  
Dirandau sat up, momentarily stunned.  
  
Adelphus: "You will continue with this job, and you will do it well because I told you to. I will listen to no more of this. Now go. You are dismissed."  
  
.  
  
Dirandau sat up, his teeth clenched together. This was inexcusable. If Adelphus wouldn't listen to him, when he was only trying to inform him of something necessary to know, then he couldn't work for him.  
  
Dirandau: "I am not, nor have I ever been, trained for Setso's job. There is no way I'll ever be able to do that job well, because I am a fighter and a leader, not a cleric."  
  
He glared at Adelphus.  
  
Dirandau: "And if you're so much of a @#$~ idiot to try and keep me at that job, then I'm going to have to report you to a higher authority. I won't do any more of it."  
  
.  
  
Adelphus: "A…higher authority?"  
  
Adelphus laughed, and repeated the question.  
  
Dirandau: "Yes…"  
  
Adelphus: "You're going to report me…to a higher authority?"  
  
Dirandau nodded, and Adelphus laughed again.  
  
Dirandau stared at him. Was this guy crazy?  
  
.  
  
Adelphus grabbed him by the collar.  
  
Adelphus: "I'm the highest authority you'll ever meet, you little brat!"  
  
.  
  
He proceeded to give Dirandau a beating he wouldn't soon forget. He left Dirandau crumpled on the floor.  
  
Adelphus: "Setso, I want you and the others to stay away from him. If he can be so uppity to me, then he is strong enough to leave on his own."  
  
Setso: "Yes, sir!"  
  
The two departed the room, leaving Dirandau alone.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau hadn't had anything to eat or drink since yesterday. Because of his lack of time, he had only one short time in the day to visit the mess hall, and Adelphus had been sure to use that for his time of lecturing.  
  
Dirandau tried to mentally will a sandwich or even a glass of water to materialize near him. It was useless, he knew, but he was so hungry that he figured he might as well try.  
  
.  
  
He tried to get up. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could persuade one of the cooks to let him have something.  
  
He managed to get up on his knees. He ached, and was too tired to try to go any further. He had become weaker these days. All those duties kept him from training.  
  
He sighed. Things had to improve sometime.  
  
.  
  
He noticed something at the front of the room. It looked like a bottle. He thought maybe it might be wine, or something like that.  
  
He half-dragged himself over, and picked it up. It was red, unlabelled. He had no idea what it was, but that didn't matter. He had never been one to let lack of knowledge stop him from jumping into a situation. And, he was so thirsty…  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Setso came back to the meeting room hours later, to see if Dirandau was still there. Adelphus was a strong man, and that was quite a beating he had given Dirandau. And, as strong as Dirandau was, he might not be able to handle it.  
  
.  
  
He sat down next to Dirandau, who was staring straight ahead, unmoving. His eyes were wide.  
  
Setso: "It'll be okay. I promise. I'll find some way to get around his orders so that it's not so hard for you."  
  
Dirandau didn't react to his words. He stayed there, still staring, still unmoving.  
  
Setso bit his lip. Even if Adelphus had ordered him to, he couldn't leave Dirandau there like that. He'd find some excuse later.  
  
Setso: "You should probably get some sleep. Think you can walk a little bit of the way with me?"  
  
Setso didn't expect an answer, but he always found it helpful to talk during these situations. It made it easier to forget about things like this if one pretended everything were normal.  
  
He put one of Dirandau's arms around his shoulder, and tried to get Dirandau to walk with him. They manage to limp all the way to the barracks. Setso laid Dirandau down on a bunk, and covered him up.  
  
Setso: "You get some sleep, and we'll talk in the morning."  
  
Dirandau murmured something in reply. Setso left to finish his duties for the day.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
It was past lights-out time, and everyone was in bed. But, no one could get any sleep.  
  
Dirandau was moaning and talking in agony. They were all fond of him, and could be very sympathetic…but they were becoming severely annoyed by him tonight. It wasn't a pleasant experience, being hurt, but all of them had to endure it some time or another. It didn't warrant all this whining. He should just get over it!  
  
Setso was the only one among them getting any sleep. He could sleep through anything, because he knew how to block out noise. The others glared at him, jealous.  
  
Ceiru picked up one of his boots and chucked it at Setso.  
  
Ceiru: "This is your fault. Go take care of it."  
  
Setso growled at him.  
  
Setso: "I..am..not…responsible…for..him…."  
  
All Setso wanted to do was sleep. He had a long day of getting yelled at for taking Dirandau out of that room after he had been instructed not to [Because Adelphus was no fool. He knew that Dirandau wouldn't be able to get up on his own.], and he wanted to be well-rested for it.  
  
Ceiru: "You should have left him where he was! Adelphus told you to leave him there. So, this is your fault. Now, go shut him up!"  
  
He threw the other shoe. Setso was too tired to argue.  
  
Setso: "Alright, alright…but you'd better leave me alone after this."  
  
.  
  
It was peculiar, the way they felt about Dirandau. They enjoyed spending time with him when he was having fun, but when he was having problems, they didn't want anything to do with him. He ceased to be 'cute' and became 'annoying.'  
  
That was how everyone seemed to feel. They liked him when he did what they wanted, but when he needed help, they scorned and ignored him. They wanted him sent somewhere else.  
  
.  
  
Setso yawned.  
  
Setso: "Hey, kid…you still feeling bad about earlier?"  
  
Dirandau spoke in nonsensical, chopped-up syllables. He sounded terribly upset.  
  
Dirandau: "Ss..sset..so……"  
  
It was the only intelligible thing he could manage to say. His teeth chattered as he spoke.   
  
He reached up a hand towards Setso. He couldn't make the hand move very far.  
  
Setso: "Look…I know you feel bad, and you're hurt. You should try to get some sleep. It'll make you feel better. And, if you're quiet, it'll help you sleep better. I promise."  
  
He took Dirandau's hand, planning on moving it back to the bed, and covering him up once again. He was surprised at how cold it was. Dirandau shivered. He was cold all over. This wasn't usual for the victim of a thrashing.  
  
They had all been told to take Dirandau to the infirmary immediately should anything be wrong with him that they weren't altogether certain of.  
  
.  
  
He picked Dirandau up, and walked towards the doorway. He stopped in front of Ceiru.  
  
Setso: "Be sure and open the door for me when I get back, alright?"  
  
Ceiru nodded sleepily, and Setso left.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
The medics gave him a quick look over, and stated that they could do nothing for him. They didn't really look him over properly. They always hated dealing with him. He was the worst patient a doctor could have, bar none.  
  
They gave Setso directions to the sorcerer's laboratory, and he continued on his way.  
  
.  
  
He had never seen a sorcerer before. He was apprehensive, but went anyway.  
  
:: "There had better be something wrong with him, because I don't want to go through all this for nothing!"::  
  
.  
  
The sorcerers wrenched Dirandau away from Setso, and began to check him over. They didn't take him into another room like the medics had. They knew too well that with Dirandau, seconds mattered, and that any situation could be dangerous for his health.  
  
Setso cringed. They seemed so cruel to him. But…they must know what they're doing, right?  
  
.  
  
They gave him some drug, which seemed to make him feel better. He even felt well enough to go to sleep now.  
  
.  
  
He was suffering from a concussion. That was the first thing they found wrong with him. And, unfortunately for him, a person with a concussion can not go to sleep the night after they receive it.  
  
They enlisted Setso's help in this.  
  
"Just keep him awake while we figure out what's going on."  
  
.  
  
That was easier said than done.  
  
Setso soon became covered with welts and red marks from Dirandau's retaliations. He was dead tired, and didn't appreciate Setso's constant tapping on his forehead to make sure that he was still awake.  
  
.  
  
Setso couldn't help but cringe. They used a lot of needles. A lot.  
  
And they were so rough with him. And he wouldn't stop crying at them to leave him alone. Setso couldn't wait to get out of there. He wished that he had simply dropped Dirandau off and left, so that he didn't have to endure this.  
  
He couldn't help imagining his little brother, Tili, going through this. Tili would be about Dirandau's age now.  
  
He sighed.  
  
:: "I should've said goodbye to him before I left." ::  
  
Tili had been so sad to see his brother go. Setso was 11 at the time, and he was eager to start his new life in the army. He was older than most of the recruits, who usually left when they were 5. There had been medical problems, and they were finally taken care of.  
  
He was lucky that his father had been able to take care of all that red tape to get him in.  
  
.  
  
Everyone was so proud of Setso, especially his little brother.  
  
"I'm gonna be just like him!" little Tili would say. Setso had increasingly found Tili annoying. He was always following Setso around, and bugging him when he wanted privacy. Setso didn't bother saying anything to Tili the day he left.  
  
And now, the last thing he remembered of his brother was avoiding him.  
  
.  
  
Setso's eyes welled with tears now. He had no idea what happened to Setso. Zaibach rarely told its citizens what happened to their relatives. "It's better that you don't know," they would say.  
  
But, it was often worse not knowing. When you didn't know, you could imagine all the worst possible outcomes, and they would be true for you.  
  
What if Tili had been sacrificed to public relations? Sometimes, Zaibach took some poor innocent person, and used them as a reminder for others of what would happen if they did something wrong.   
  
Or…what if….It was horrible to think about, but what if they had used Tili like they had Dirandau? It wasn't likely, since usually only foreign children were put through things like that. But…still...one never knew…  
  
.  
  
.  
  
It took them several hours before they realized that he had been poisoned. Liquid arsenic. It always came in red bottles without labels.  
  
.  
  
They dismissed Setso. Dirandau was to spend the night with the sorcerers, and go back to the training center he was sent from in the morning. They would decide what was to be done about him later.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Setso wandered around for a bit before going back to the barracks.  
  
He wasn't certain what to think about the situation. Dirandau would probably be happier away from Adelphus. He had heard that Dirandau had much more freedom around Folken.  
  
But…to be poisoned like that…someone really hated him.  
  
:: "Adelphus must have had something to do with this." ::  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Indeed, Adelphus had planned on this happening. There was no way to prove that he was the one who was behind the incident. And, he would be rid of that wretched Albatou, because the sorcerers wouldn't allow their precious pet to be placed in such danger indefinitely.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau slept for the next two days, put on heavy doses of amnesia. He was to forget everything about the Akrua and Adelphus.  
  
Sleeping….always sleeping and forgetting.  
  
.  
  
Ah, but there was one person who did not forget, though she slept all the time. She would forever remember all the horrible experiences…the needles…the dark knights who kidnapped her and tortured her…she would remember those forever.  
  
Dirandau could escape from that, in some form…but she had no choice.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
{{About the concussion thing…I don't know much of anything about it. I only know that someone I knew had received one once before going to a party, and he kept repeating over and over, "Can't sleep or I'll die. Can't sleep or I'll die." I inquired about it, and everyone else tried to explain it to me…but they were all tired [It was about 2:00 AM at the time, and, unlike me, not many of the people I know are cognizant at those early hours.]. They finally gave up, and said simply, "People who suffer from a concussion can't sleep the night they receive it." I haven't been able to talk to them lately, and I haven't found any place that explains about concussions….so, forgive me if that's not true, or if I screwed something up.  
  
{He's fine, by the by. He didn't die, and one thing I saw from the experience was how cruel and foolish these people were, for making fun of him half the night.}  
  
I don't know why I started talking about Serena at the end…but, I thought I might as well say something on her behalf in this fic. Maybe it's because I've been having dreams from her point of view lately.  
  
And now, response to reader reviews!  
  
Etowato: ::Giggles and starts repeating Dilly lines:: Yeah, I always thought he'd have a problem with love.  
  
My philosophy is that if they're not in character, why should I bother using them to write with?  
  
[I apologize to those who don't care about writing in character. There's nothing wrong with that if you like it. It's a different style, and that's personal choice. I simply have no taste for it.]  
  
::Huggs:: I shall miss you having you as my beta reader very much, m'dear.  
  
Feye: Well, now it would be less than a week. Yes, I will come back. In four months, or more [Emphasis on the more.] Four is the bare minimum, and it's not likely. I'm guessing six months is more logical. [Although, I will be able to get on the net once in awhile…they probably have terminals I can visit when I get stationed somewhere.]  
  
It makes me laugh every time I think of it: The man who doesn't bat an eye when cat-girls fawn all over him explaining about love and romance to…Dirandau…o_O  
  
::Smiles::  
  
It is illegal to have this much talent. That's why I write this from the county jail. ::WinkWink::  
  
I must say a word to miss Black Moon Empress.  
  
My dear lady, if you had done any looking around at Escaflowne fan-sites, or maybe read some fan-fiction, you would know that there is no definitive way to spell the character's names.  
  
And, as Missy Feye hath said on a forum I visit, the truly correct version of Dirandau's name is Deiranduu Arabatou (Did I get all the letters in, Feye? ^_^).  
  
I don't want you to be hurt by my comment, but anyone who doesn't research before brashly stating something like that is a fool.  
  
And, I know the six names that Dirandau called out in the show. I was merely wondering if there were any more.  
  
Please don't bother writing to me now. I'm leaving in four days, and even if I weren't, I'm an ill-tempered young writer who is somewhat arrogant when it comes to my writing, and falls far too easily in a vendetta against another person.  
  
You really would hate me if you knew me, and that's the truth.  
  
My advise to you is study up a little on other people's views, and not be so brash in your reviews.  
  
[Although, you probably won't even bother listening to a word I say after you get through reading this response to your review.]  
  
::Gulp::  
  
I leave the 27th. I hope you all have enjoyed these writings from my high school years. When I come back, I'll be writing to you as a sailor, all grown up, and with more experiences to add to my knowledge and to draw from for story experiences. I have every hope that I'll not change so much that I would either hate Tenkuu no Escaflowne, or writing fan-fiction.  
  
.  
  
Bootcamp is eight weeks, and only two weeks of that is difficult. I'm sure that it won't change me too much.  
  
::Decides to end here, for fear of rambling on too much.:: 


	6. Break

Note: Hello everyone! Um, this is actually not Lady Thompson. Isn't that disappointing? No, she is still away at Navy boot camp and I am just a lowly friend who no one cares about. Sorry guys. Anyway, she sent this story to me in the mail and asked me to post it. It's really great. Ok, so it has nothing to do with Escaflowne, but you can pretend it does if you'd like. We don't mind. (n_n I didn't know where to put it so I decided to put it here. It's just a break in the story. Hope you like it! And I'm sure Lady Thompson would appreciate it if you reviewed.. ::hint hint:: Enjoy!  
  
The Lone Traveler  
  
By Lady Thompson  
  
And the group started, all of one. They walked the path at different paces. All of determination, and knowing to where they were departed, knowing the  
way.  
  
One sped ahead.  
  
Another laughed and followed. Still others followed, too slow to keep up, but trying just the same. They wished no solace, but acceptance. They would  
not be left behind.  
  
All in front turned, looking to see who was retarded in their cycles, whose bodies were not vessels of swift passage. They saw that all were together,  
save one lone traveler.  
  
He was walking slowly, maybe a mile behind. Walking at his own pace.  
  
They looked at him strangely, for he was unhurried, unworried about the  
race.  
  
The first began to laugh.  
  
"Look at this fool!" he cried. "He knows he cannot run with us, that he  
cannot win. He doesn't even try to keep up. We should wait at the  
destination, so that we may 'welcome' him when he comes."  
  
The others commenced to join him, their own slowness pushes aside in the  
face of this ridicule.  
  
The lone traveler simply smiled and walked on, not bothering to try and  
defend himself to them.  
  
The others, still much intrigued called to the lone traveler.  
  
"You! Why do you not walk with us?"  
  
They snickered and laughed. They were kings of the world, and had the right  
to make sport of this lowly way-walker.  
  
The lone traveler simply walked along the way.  
  
The others were miffed by this traveler's aloofness. How dare he have the  
audacity to not be insulted!?  
  
In anger, the leader of the others began screaming insults at the traveler.  
  
The traveler, still smiling and walking calmly began thus:  
"You, who would call me fool, you, who think you are so great, you may  
continue on your way, racing and laughing and such.  
I will not heed you."  
  
The traveler then turned to the left, and walked away. The others continued on in their race, puzzling about the traveler, and trying desperately to  
keep up.  
  
The Lone traveler walked to a spot, all awash with a golden light, broken  
here and there with the shadows of the leaves. He stood there for an  
indeterminable amount of time, staring at the sky, soaking in that warm  
light.  
Peace, peace, glorious peace.  
  
Some may seem slow, jacked-up, wrong.  
Some may seem to take too long.  
But it doesn't matter, how we go on,  
as long as we reach our own destination.  
  
Note: See!??? Told you it was great! Now all you get to reviewing and telling my dear friend how wonderful it is for yourself! Go on now! Press the button! I'm waaaaaaiting!!! 


	7. Chapter 6

{{Okay, I ceased to use a disclaimer since about the first chapter of my first story. But, now I feel another is necessary. So...   
  
Disclaimer: Reviews about the character's names will be ignored completely. The author is disinclined to care about 'The War of Romanization.' The names are not important in these stories, but rather the plot-line, the characters, and the theme are.   
  
There, now that that's over....   
  
Enjoy.}} Dirandau sat cross-legged on the floor, his sword lain out in front of him. "This is just....perfect..." he thought. He was on medical hold, indefinitely. And, for no apparent reason. "Folken did this. I know he did! Damned idiot...he intends to keep me here..." He felt hopeless, but he hadn't given up yet.   
  
He looked over at a clock. "Damnit! Can't he hurry up?"   
  
As if summoned by cue, Migueru came dodging into the room. He looked around, to see that all was safe. He then took out a stack of paperwork he had been hiding, and set it down in front of Dirandau.   
  
Dirandau had been waiting for Migueru to return. He had been sent on an important covert mission...which consisted of raiding the clerics' offices for paperwork. Dirandau had been unable to go along. The doctors were unsure whether or not he was well enough to be trusted in roaming around.   
  
"Are you certain these will help?" Dirandau asked. It was not so much to verify that he asked, as it was to simply hear the words. With a smile, Migueru replied, "Yes, sir." "Good." Dirandau grinned as he looked through the stack. What a lovely way to revenge on Folken! Using a paper-pusher's own weapons against him.   
  
Migueru watched Dirandau. He was glad to see his master happy once more. The incident with Adelphus had only made him care more. It made how foolish officers would often become after many years removed from enlisted status. Dirandau wouldn't be like them. He lived and worked with the enlisted, the 'lower orders' as they were often called. He wouldn't ignore them or have them killed needlessly. He would actually care.   
  
Indeed, that paperwork was handy, and if Dirandau had it, he would be able to control the outcome of his own life. And that was precisely why there was no way that he would ever be able to keep them. An upstanding young cleric, who had become well-respected by most others who knew of him, had been sent by Folken to retrieve some of Dirandau's information. However, Migueru had already raided the office by then. But, the cleric was not distraught. He had excellent tracking skills, along with detailed records of every single person in Zaibach. He found the perpetrator in minutes, and proceeded to where Migueru was likely to be.   
  
"Alright, here's the deal: If you just cooperate and give it back, I'll make sure that no one ever knows what you did." Migueru wanted to slice the guy's head off, but that wasn't likely possible when he was pinned against the wall. This guy was pretty strong for a cleric. "You'll get no agreement with me," Migueru stated, with all manner of defiance. He wouldn't betray his lord to trouble, no matter what kind of trouble it was.   
  
The cleric narrowed his eyes. What to do now? He had no idea where Migueru had set the records, or if many people had access to that spot. He couldn't go investigate without permission, which would take an indeterminable amount of time. And who knows who could find them between now and then. This could be very dangerous, if those papers were to fall into the wrong hands. Damn these idiotic rash soldiers!  
  
He was becoming frustrated. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Alright then. I have no choice but to go to your commander and inform him of the situation." The cleric fully believed in the Zaibach policy of solving problems at the lowest level possible.   
  
"And where were you five minutes before that?" Dirandau inquired in a flat, monotone voice. He had been forced to do an interrogation, thanks to the cleric's request. He couldn't stop the questioning until the cleric was satisfied, as stated in one of Zaibach's many manuals. "I was at the lounge at the four corners. Studying," replied Migueru. "Well, there you have it...he was studying. He couldn't have stolen them, because he was studying. Are you fucking satisfied??" The cleric shook his head, 'no.' ".....unsat," was his only word.   
  
Dirandau's eye twitched. Unsat?? What more could that idiot possibly want to hear? There was no evidence against Migueru, and Migueru obviously wasn't going to admit to anything. There was nothing helpful in continuing. But, the cleric still persisted.   
  
"Alright then. Migueru, do you care at all about my records?" he asked to begin the questioning anew. "No, sir," replied Migueru. "Would you know what to do with them if you had taken them?" Migueru took a moment, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Hmm...change your rank so that you could order Lord Folken executed?"   
  
Both had an excellent laugh at that. Neither were very fond of him right now, because he was the one holding the Dragonslayers back. But, Gatty was not so pleased. His words were full of annoyance. "I don't see why you feel the need to insult your betters like that...Captain."   
  
Dirandau leaned back lazily in his chair, and placed his feet on the table in front of him. "I don't feel the need to insult my betters. Folken simply isn't one of them." The cleric clenched his fist. "I see," he said. "As much as he's looked out for you, you still don't appreciate anything he's done."  
  
He turned to leave. He was upset, and it would have done no good trying to get anymore out of the two. They were immature, anyway. They wouldn't help him. He even had suspicions that Dirandau was in on this. "Now, that's why I was so happy when Folken gave me the job of transferring the Dragonslayers out of here. No one like you deserves to work with Lord Folken."   
  
Dirandau and Migueru exchanged angry glances. Folken had lied then. He said it wasn't his fault about Dirandau being on medical hold, and yet he was the one who had put someone in charge of transferring them. It's not as if they didn't expect something like that in the first place, but actually hearing that it was true made it worse. Dirandau growled. How dare he, how dare he, how dare he....   
  
And, as usual when they tried to change their circumstances, things got worse. Folken made a thorough search of all the Dragonslayer's spaces, and found the files. Now, on top of medical hold, Dirandau also had a month of restriction. Nothing but Duty and enforced confinement. The rest of the Dragonslayers got two month's restriction. They would not be allowed near eachother, except in the even that there was work to be done. And even then, they were not allowed to speak on friendly terms. Someone would be watching them at all times. Folken, obviously, was going to watch over Dirandau. Because the cleric already knew what was going on, and was used to keeping groups under control, Folken enlisted his help with the others. Folken liked to involve as few people as possible, to maintain secrecy.   
  
{{Okay, thanks for reading. I'll have more later.   
  
And, I'm going to follow my disclaimer to the letter. I don't know why, but it really really makes me angry that people are concerned over stuff like that. Call it arrogance.   
  
Kudos to anyone who guesses who the cleric is (If I didn't write his name in already) I just felt like being secretive.   
  
Adios.}} 


	8. Chapter 7

The wing of rooms allocated to the DragonSlayers had the silence and reverential atmosphere of a cathedral's catacombs. For, it is only in Death's broken home that no sound is ever rendered permission to wander. .  
  
.  
  
Without a job to do, and without having anything they could study on their own, they were at a loss. What was there to do without eachother? Without the work that their country expected them to do?   
  
.  
  
To become institutionalized is to lose your soul forever, to trade whatever life one may have had the potential to live, for the security of always having the next event scripted and ready. And when that script is not ready, the world becomes mired down in a dense, patchy fog; bits of light break through here and there, but not enough for one to see where they are going. . And the lost receive pity from the lost; the others who can see through the dark don't care to help them, or, in other circumstances, they know the way but can not guide another through. .   
  
All of them were of a single thought, as the fish who swim in schools; they wondered only how their comrades and their lord were faring in this melancholy circumstance. Their captors simply stood by in silence, dark figures in the distance who would never relent. . . Gatty found the task Folken had given him an easy one. The Dragonslayers all had their own rooms, but the doors converged into one hallway. If any of them tried to sneak out, he could catch them with no difficulty.   
  
The passing time was not hell for him, as it was for the Dragonslayers. His work could be completed in that maze of cleric's offices, or out in the open among the trees. It didn't really matter to him. And, the Dragonslayers provided plenty of opportunities for him to take a break every now and again. He found it amusing that, as well-trained as they were in stealth operations, they couldn't manage to get past a lone cleric guarding their own hall. It made him laugh to think of what would happen to them if they were captured. They probably wouldn't even attempt to get out of their cells. "And they take such pride in themselves, too, " Gatty thought with a smile. He could've been a soldier too, if things had worked out. He was well-versed in strategy and fighting techniques. But, a good cleric is harder to find than a good soldier. It had decided early on that he should have the more important job of inside work, keeping all of Zaibach in order. A soldier may fight bravely, but if someone were to screw up and send him to the wrong place, his death would be in vain. . .   
  
.  
  
The clock ticked its hours away. Finally, it struck 1400, the time set aside for the Dragonslayers to practice fighting as a group. They were expected to keep in excellent condition at all times, even on restriction. . They walked along the hallway, single file, maintaining the five foot interval from eachother which Folken had insisted upon. Gatty followed them, ensuring that none were breaking the rules. When they reached the training hall, they were entrusted to the watchful eye of their instructors, and Gatty went to counsel with Folken.  
  
.  
  
Poor Dirandau. He could never seem to manage cooperation, not even if all he held dear depended on it.   
  
He had mouthed off to Folken, and consequently lost the privilege of joining the group training session.  
  
.  
  
He sat with his head lain down on his desk, his hands tightly woven together, attempting to maintain silence. He gripped his fingers in a manner that, had someone stronger been doing that, they would have been crushed and broken. . Why couldn't this frustration ever end? There was always something happening beyond his reach to keep him in an impossible state.   
  
.   
  
And Folken...was he ever going to escape from that terrible man? It was as if he were a vortex; no matter how hard Dirandau tried to get away, there was always something that forced him to come back. He just wanted to be free. To know that someone wasn't always watching him, expecting him to screw up. To know that someone wouldn't be accusing him of doing wrong when he was doing just fine. .   
  
.  
  
Gatty walked in, a bit disappointed. He had been expecting to speak with Folken alone, not with one of his enemies present.   
  
"Sir...am I interrupting anything?"   
  
It appeared to Gatty that Dirandau was being subjected to further punishment, and he didn't wish to disturb anything. Especially something that would involve annoyance to that brat.  
  
.  
  
Folken flipped a page in the book he was reading, to pass the time. He hardly bothered to look up for any of this. It was all the same, all something he had seen before. "No, no," he said with a smirk. "He's just meditating, that's all. He's a very deeply religious person, you know." . Dirandau lifted his head up, and glowered back at Folken with jaded eyes. Folken had him imprisoned, had him subjugated, had him defeated...and now he was going to continue with insults.  
  
.  
  
"You're going to die some day, and I'll be there to laugh at your funeral!" Folken nodded in agreement, still smirking. "And, of course I'll care, because I'll be able to hear you loud and clear, right?"  
  
.  
  
Dirandau's eyes flashed venemously. There was no defeating Folken in anything. Dirandau went to his room's lavatory, slammed the door shut, and began screaming. .   
  
.  
  
Gatty was appalled.   
  
"And this is someone we are entrusting Zaibach's future to?"   
  
Folken nodded.  
  
"Forgive my audacity, sir," Gatty began. He was always so careful to show deference to those with a higher rank. He was no fool. He was not about to have his career, barely begun, stilted because some idiot in power didn't like the way he had been addressed.   
  
"I think it's entirely ridiculous that so much faith is placed in him. From what I can see, and what I've read, he's not going to do well at all. And he's...such a child."   
  
.  
  
Folken sighed. Often times, he felt the same thing. But, they were too far along into this now. They had to make do with the situation, as best as they could.   
  
"That may be. But, it's not for a cleric to decide, so keep it out of your mind. You'll do better that way."   
  
"Yes, sir," Gatty said.  
  
.  
  
Gatty found himself unable to keep an angry look off of his face. Folken's words frustrated him. From what he could infer, Folken agreed with him, but lacked the power to change what had been done. So, if people like that, who constantly looked out for Zaibach's interests and always worked towards her ideals, were ignored even in such high ranks, then what hope was there that he could possibly do any good? All he'd ever be able to do was exactly what someone told him, and that had been passed down so far that river of power that it wouldn't matter whether or not he saw that an order was going to cause harm.   
  
.  
  
And it was people like Dirandau, who didn't know anything, who were the ones that made all the important decisions. He glared at the lavatory door, behind which Dirandau was throwing a fantastic fit.   
  
"Some get all the glory," he thought, "And the Undeserving Many get a life behind the scenes."   
  
.  
  
.  
  
Unbeknownst to him, there was jealousy and agitation flickering in his eyes. It worried Folken.   
  
He, like many who knew of Gatty, had a great deal of hope for the young man. Folken didn't want him spending too much time on this job, which was obviously taxing his emotions in an unhealthy manner.   
  
.  
  
"What did you want to speak to me about?" Folken inquired. Gatty handed him some papers.   
  
.  
  
"I wanted to discuss the possibility of transferring the Dragonslayers out of the hold they've been put under," he said. "I doubt Dirandau is still ill, and they could just as easily finish out their restriction somewhere else. And, while they're busy waiting, all the office work will be finished." And, to add an extra touch of military bearing, he finished with, "I respectfully request your approval of this transfer."   
  
.   
  
Dirandau had quieted, and began listening in when he heard mention of the Dragonslayers. He stared, unblinking, at the door. There was hope of getting out of here after all? He prayed that Folken would agree. Why wouldn't he, if he happened to like Gatty so much?   
  
.  
  
Folken took a quick look over the papers, then handed them back.   
  
"No," he said. "I won't approve it."  
  
.  
  
Gatty was infuriated. Folken hadn't even looked at them! Rrr....sometimes he despised the   
  
helplessness of his job...begging for signatures, or information which would ultimately help those he was trying to solicit it from. It was like working for a bunch of mental patients, and trying in vain to give them medicine they didn't see the need for.  
  
.  
  
"Sir...once again, I apologize for being so bold, but...why not?"   
  
"I have my own reasons, none of which concern you."   
  
.  
  
Folken was hesitant to admit his doubts aloud...that sending Dirandau out there in Zaibach under someone else's supervision would never work. The incident with Adelphus was only one more bit of proof about how he was going to fare. No one liked someone they didn't think was worthy of the status they held. And, Dirandau hadn't earned it...not in the traditional sense. He didn't spend years of studying and training to get where he was. He had only done that after his place in life had been set. No one respected who or what he was, except his own men.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau diminished his holding of credits by punching several holes in the walls. That would cost him a bit to fix.  
  
.  
  
Gatty shut his eyes. Why, why, why?   
  
"I understand, sir. I'll file those away, and get back to work."   
  
.  
  
Dirandau ripped the door open, and marched up to Gatty  
  
"Now wait just a minute! That's unacceptable!! He can't just destroy my life, and then not give any reasons whatsoever..."  
  
Why he was yelling at Gatty, he didn't really know. Maybe it was because Gatty had the power to change things, a power which Dirandau so badly needed, and was being too obedient to use it. And maybe because he was sick of yelling at Folken, when he knew Folken would never change.   
  
.  
  
"On the contrary, he can. I've got plenty of manuals you could read that say so," he said, calmly. He had practiced much at maintaining a calm demeanor when he wanted to rip someone apart. It came in handy when dealing with higher officers, or with those the officers didn't want to see hurt.   
  
"And, besides that, he hasn't ruined your life. If anything, he's been spending all his time trying to ensure that you don't do that yourself. I can't count how many incident reports I've had to file about you, that should have earned a court-martial and an execution."   
  
Even though he didn't agree with what Folken was doing right now, he still held the highest respect for him.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau put on one of his wonderful smiles. The kind an enemy always remembered, because it placed great happiness next to torment they would feel for a long time.   
  
"So, you want to see me killed? And yet...I'm still alive. Isn't that interesting? I guess it's one of those old "balance of power" equations. You know...the kind that turn up saying you have none?"  
  
.   
  
Gatty glared at him. If he could get the little brat alone in a room, he'd just....rrr....  
  
"Lord Folken, I'll report back to you before I leave to get the Dragonslayers back from the training hall."  
  
He left before Dirandau could get another word in. He knew better than to stay and continue the argument. He felt his patience running out, and knew that reckless actions would be something he soon would be unable to avoid taking if he remained there arguing. If he allowed himself to fall into that, he might ruin everything he had done up to this point, and all for the sake of a fight.   
  
.  
  
Folken and Dirandau went back to their favourite way to interact with eachother - completely ignoring one another.   
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Four hours later, the Dragonslayers were back in their hallway, lined up in front of their doors. They were waiting for Gatty to come back, to account for everyone there. It was a formality which they didn't mind. It gave them a chance to see eachother for a little while longer. Even if they couldn't talk, it was better to see familiar faces than to be alone in a room all the time.   
  
.  
  
Training had been a wonderful release. All the stored up boredom had turned into aggression, and easily passed through the handles of their swords.   
  
.  
  
However, all through it, they had been worried about Dirandau. He hadn't shown up, and it was evident from his face now that he had badly needed that bit of liberation. They were somewhat glad that Folken had complete control over him right now. At least that way, if Dirandau became too depressed or angry, he wouldn't have an opportunity to kill himself...  
  
.  
  
.  
  
About ten minutes later, Gatty came running. His hair was tousled, and he looked tired. He had been sent running around for papers, like a dog, as usual. He bowed to Folken.  
  
"Forgive my lateness, sir. I-"  
  
"Forgiven. Just carry on with it. Folken cared about military bearing as much as the next commander. But, Gatty had too much of it. Often times, he was labeled what was known as a 'military idiot' - someone who follows things by the book in normal circumstances. While this is what was technically expected of everyone in Zaibach, there was hardly a person who actually followed protocol all the time. [And most of the others who tried didn't have as much knowledge of Zaibach protocol as Gatty did, thus making him stand out even more.]   
  
"Yes, sir."   
  
.  
  
It took thirty minutes in all. Gatty had to recite the rules and regulations soldiers on restriction must follow, to ensure that they knew them. [It was quite ridiculous, reciting what they were not allowed to do. It would have taken only one minute to say what they were allowed to do.]   
  
.  
  
.  
  
Throughout the whole thing, Gatty was acutely aware of the terrible looks he was receiving from Migueru and Dirandau. This was one of those times where the forced habit of the 'thousand yard stare' came in handy. If he didn't have to see them, they didn't really exist. Just names on paper, that's all. Them and their annoying behavior could just disappear if he kept them out of his vision.  
  
.  
  
He finally reached the part where he read off names, and checked off those who repeated it and called out, "Present." Almost everyone responded satisfactorily.  
  
"Lavarial, Migueru," he called out.   
  
"Lavarial, Second in Command. Present."   
  
Dirandau and Migueru were still fighting with Folken about that title. Folken refused to let Migueru have it officially, and would not back down from that.   
  
.  
  
Gatty masked himself with calmness again. He wouldn't fight right now.  
  
"Alright, I'll mark that down this time...but if you don't repeat exactly as I've said, I'll be sure to get you a court-martial for using a false title. Understood?"   
  
"Understood...cleric." Gatty did have a higher rank than Migueru and the other Dragonslayers, but since he wasn't in soldier class, they didn't have to call him sir. And Migueru certainly wasn't going to show that prig any semblance of respect when he didn't have to.  
  
.  
  
"Captain Albatou, Dirandau, Lead Dragonslayer," Gatty called out. No answer. Gatty repeated it once more. No answer.   
  
.  
  
Gatty stared directly at Dirandau, as angry as he possibly could be. "Did you get a name change between now and the last time I saw you?" Dirandau smiled, but didn't say anything.   
  
.  
  
Gatty repeated his name, becoming very frustrated. And Dirandau once again remained silent. .   
  
Folken clamped a hand down on Dirandau's shoulder, letting him know he was getting himself in trouble. Finally, his shoulder grew to hurt too much, and so he shouted, "Present."   
  
.  
  
"You're supposed to respond with your name," Gatty said.   
  
Dirandau smirked. "What, you don't know my name by now?" Gatty glared at him.   
  
Through grit teeth, he said, "Of course I do. But, this is an official record. You have to say it, because that's what the manual says to do."  
  
.   
  
Dirandau rolled his eyes. "Why do you care what the manual says? This isn't a ceremony. There's no one around who cares about it that matters." Gatty was red with anger. That was an insult directly aimed at him, demeaning something he held of high value.   
  
"What about Lord Folken? I'm sure he cares." asked Gatty.   
  
Dirandau laughed. "You're sure, huh? Well, I'm sure you would know, since you two are both alike..."  
  
"And how do you mean that?"   
  
"You're both pathetic and weak. Neither of you belong here, and neither of you are doing any good for this army. Chk…and you talk about deserving court martials! That's a fine thing, coming from such idiotic criminals!"   
  
.  
  
Gatty marked Dirandau's name down. He rolled up the paper, as well as his proverbial sleeves. He was through playing games with that child.   
  
"I take it you've never seen Lord Folken in a fight. I know right now he could defeat you easily...and he probably has, hasn't he?"   
  
It was Gatty's time to smirk. He knew so much about Dirandau...too much. Every sad little detail.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau folded his arms and looked away. The blow struck him deeply, and he couldn't continue on for several moments.  
  
.  
  
"At least I'm not a running dog for anyone else...at least I don't go begging people for things I need to do my job with...at least I'll actually be able to do something important." It had ceased to be a fight to cut eachother down. Now Dirandau was on the defensive...retreating to a place of strength.   
  
.  
  
"At least I'm not some neurotic little..." Gatty couldn't finish. That would be saying too much. Regardless of how he felt, Zaibach wanted to keep Dirandau around…and it wouldn't do well to let Dirandau in on the few secrets Gatty knew about him. He bowed to Folken.  
  
"I will report back here in a half hour, ready to stand watch, sir."  
  
"Fine, fine."   
  
.  
  
Gatty took off running again. Nobody could do anything untill he got back to stand watch over that hallway. He was always rushing. It was too bad that Zaibach didn't consider sleep a true necessity. He could have really used some right then.   
  
.  
  
.  
  
By the time Gatty got through all the last minute emergency jobs that people inevitably gave to him whenever he walked into the cleric's office, he had just enough time to run back and be an hour late. Folken had allowed the Dragonslayers to go back in their rooms, but since they needed someone to watch the hall, he had to stay. And since he had to stay, Dirandau also had to stand watch.   
  
.  
  
Gatty stopped to catch his breath, and was about to apologize again, when Dirandau cut him off.  
  
.  
  
"Late? Oh, that's so unlike a perfect little cleric...I think you ought to get yourself sent to a court-martial."  
  
Gatty stared up at him, his eyes betraying his weariness.   
  
And you would be my judge?"  
  
"Ha! No, I wouldn't take that job. I'd much rather be your executioner."   
  
"Of course..." Gatty said, not particularly caring anymore.   
  
.  
  
He tried once again to apologize to Folken for being late, but Dirandau once again interfered.   
  
"You really ought to work out more. You seem tired, and I'll bet it wasn't much of a run. Then again...you probably don't get much chance to do that, seeing as you're in an office all day, right? Behind a desk…like a good little office boy?"   
  
.  
  
Gatty glared at him.  
  
"I practically run a marathon every day. Thanks to you wonderful soldiers and all your mistakes."   
  
"Good. Well, if you can't get a real job, then why not suffer a little? The useless ought to, often…to give them some semblance of dignity, at least."  
  
.   
  
Gatty stared at Folken, almost pleading for him to make Dirandau shut up. He didn't understand why Folken, such a great leader, would tolerate this. It never occured to him that spending years with Dirandau would make this behavior normal, tolerable, and hardly noticeable.  
  
.  
  
He felt alone. But, that didn't stop him. He could fight alone. He often did.  
  
.  
  
"Then you should be begging for punishments, and not complaining when they are given." Gatty said.  
  
Dirandau growled. "It's your fault that I'm not doing anything, not mine!! If you hadn't agreed to do what Folken told you to, and hadn't stuck my Dragonslayers here, I wouldn't be stuck here with him anymore!!! I wouldn't have broken your precious rules if you had helped me!!!!!!"  
  
.   
  
Gatty was taken aback. Thus far, he had seen Dirandau in fits of anger, heard him scream, and taken all those insults. But, never all three at once. And never while looking straight into those eyes…  
  
It was a unique and startling experience. All of the rage and hatred Dirandau felt and carried with him seemed to reach Gatty through that voice. His confidence was shattered for the moment.  
  
.  
  
"I..."  
  
"You what...? You have anymore damned excuses? Or defenses for Folken?"   
  
Gatty blinked. He couldn't think of a single thing to say. His face had lost all its set determination.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau stared at him, confused. What the hell just happened? Why did he stop?  
  
"Hey! I asked you a question!!"   
  
He gave Gatty a terrible hit, that sent him flying.   
  
.  
  
Phsycial abuse was one area that Folken wouldn't stand for, at least not at the moment. For one thing, Dirandau had a habit of going too far and causing permanent damage…like a young rattlesnake, unknowledgeable of how much venom he ought to give an enemy. For another, it was against the rules that anyone under restriction should strike another member of Zaibach.   
  
"That's enough, Dirandau. I'm giving you early taps tonight. It's time you got some rest."   
  
.  
  
"Oh, what's the matter? I hurt your worthless little secretary, so now you're going to lock me up?"  
  
Folken didn't say anything more. He simply dragged Dirandau back to his room, who literally kicked him all the way.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Gatty sat on the floor for awhile, rubbing his face. He hadn't been hit like that since his early training days.  
  
.  
  
"Damnit, those were hellish times..." he thought. Always on the brink of death, and everywhere they turned, always someone ready to remind them how worthless they were.   
  
.  
  
He blinked. He suddenly realized what he must look like...weak...unprofessional. At least, that was how he felt.  
  
"Get up off the floor, you idiot.." The voice of one of his old instructors....he could hear it distinctly. It was amazing that one insignificant meeting with someone could start bringing those old helpless feelings back.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
He was standing, staring at the wall with a dazed look on his face by the time Folken came back.  
  
.  
  
"I think that Migueru is planning a break out tonight. You should be mindful of that. Understood?"   
  
Gatty didn't answer. He was still stunned. And thinking...thinking... .   
  
"Gatty? Gatty, can you hear me?"  
  
"I...uh…yeah....." That was definitive proof that he wasn't altogether with it at the moment. There wasn't a soul who would ever catch him using slang phrase. It was always yes or no, or whatever the appropriate word would be. [He couldn't help it. He was a grammarian.]   
  
.  
  
Folken tapped him on the shoulder. Gatty turned and stared at him, very startled. Like a frightened deer.   
  
"You ought to get some rest."   
  
"No, no..." Gatty protested. "I'm fine. I can do my job." At the moment, he felt a desperate need to prove himself.  
  
"Then let me rephrase that. I order you to go get some rest. I'll stay here tonight."  
  
"What about-"  
  
"Don't worry about him," Folken said. "He's well-taken care of." Folken hadn't felt like dealing with Dirandau, so he simply gave the poor guy some tranquilizers, and left him for the night. Folken seemed to be growing callous, and uncaring. At times, he even managed to seem heartless. Poor Van might weep if he knew some of his brother's actions as of late. But, no matter…bad actions often become rose-tinted with age.   
  
.  
  
Gatty left, still dazed and stunned, in an unearthly haze. He had been so very in charge just a moment ago. What the hell happened?   
  
.  
  
.  
  
{{Author's notes: I'm going to have to sit and analyse why I so off-handedly called Folken heartless. o_O That's just...uh...kind of strange for me to say, considering how I feel about him as a character. [Perhaps it's from spending so much time writing from Dilly's point of view. ^_^] Ah, now for me to stop babbling, and reply to reviews.: Hehe...so I did give out his name. Oh well. ^_^ Nah, he's not as interesting as Dilly. But, still, very fun to play around with. I'll be writing as much as I can. Although, at the moment, I'm fearing that my stories involving Dirandau are all becoming too similar. Nearly all of them involve a plot where he is stuck under someone else's control, and is fighting very hard to get out of that [Not that this subject isn't highly appropriate in his case...] I don't know how many more I can write without it all becoming the same. [Heh....but, then if I stop, I won't be able to get into character like that again for Dirandau…at least, not with a purpose.] Missy Feye: Don't worry about Folken. He's fought dragons with his bare hands, and dealt with Van and Mereru when either were being annoying. I'm sure he can handle Dirandau. ::Meanwhile, we see Dirandau running around in the background, setting fire to all the curtains:: o_O Eh...okay...so maybe you're right. Navy college is going just fine. Boring, but just fine otherwise. There's not much to do here, though. We have a saying: "We do have something of interest to do around here. It's called getting in trouble." But, don't worry...I'm not getting on restriction anytime soon. ^_^ [And here they take away everything you own except your uniforms for that, and then a months pay...and you're lucky if you don't get kicked out because the Commander seems to be fond of that lately.] Okay...I have to get this done before I get kicked out of the library for the night. Next chapter should be fun...The DSlayers get off restriction. And, we finally get that mess about the second in command taken care of, I hope. (It's probably not all that important to anyone at the moment.) And, I'm sure anyone can take a guess at who's going to be put in that position. Adios, and Happy Trails.}} 


	9. Chapter 8

Dirandau leaned against the wall of the training hall. He was off restriction now, but they still had two days to go.  
  
He was brooding silently, angry at all the mistakes he perceived his men to be making. He wanted to correct them, but, no, the instructors were the only ones who were allowed to do that at the moment. And...aya, were they blind, or something?  
  
Guimel had begun an offense attack. Right off the bat, it was just...wrong. He'd left himself wide open to be cut in half. Dirandau waited and waited, but the instructor didn't say anything. The instructor had decided to let it slide, knowing that Guimel would get better in time, and there was no need to obsess about minute details just yet.  
  
But Dirandau did not hold with any such theory.  
  
Dirandau started towards the two, intending to give that instructor something to think about. However, he was stopped momentarily. A hand grabbed hold of his leg, and Dirandau landed flat on the floor.  
  
"Damn you, cleric..."  
  
Gatty rolled his eyes.  
  
"Oh, come on. I was doing you a favor. You know that if you interfere you're going right back on restriction."  
  
Dirandau glared at him, but didn't say anything more. It was true. He hated having it thrown in his face.  
  
He sat up, waiting for this session to be over, and watching the clock so that he didn't have to see his men struggling to learn without someone proper to teach them.  
  
Gatty leaned on his hand, bored. He had finished all the work he'd been given for the month. There was nothing, absolutely nothing to do. And try as he might, he couldn't force himself to take interest in what the Dragonslayers were doing. He never cared to watch fighting. That was one thing that he could only enjoy if he was doing it.  
  
The clock ticked the last second away, at which time Dirandau shot up and bolted for the door.  
  
"Time's up! Everyone line-"  
  
"Don't do my job, Captain," Gatty interrupted. He rose lazily to his feet, not caring how long he took to do so. "Until restriction is over, I'm still in charge of them."  
  
Dirandau glowered at him.  
  
"Usurper..."  
  
"No. Unwilling captor. There's a difference."  
  
Gatty gave the order for everyone to line up. They headed out to the temporary Dragonslayer's wing.  
  
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING????? YOU CAN'T DO THIS! THEY BELONG TO ME, NOT YOU!!"  
  
It had been necessary to call in a few guards, to restrain Dirandau. He was....not happy. [As if he ever is...]  
  
"Calm down. It's not as if we're sending him to an execution," said Folken. "He's only being reassigned."  
  
The young man in question, Laurel, was standing at attention on the other side of the room. He had just turned in his uniform, his weapons, and his manuals. It was difficult, but he remained strong. He didn't break down crying, though he desparately wanted to. It was especially difficult after hearing the emotional outcries of his lord. His former lord.  
  
"His replacement-"  
  
"I'M NOT REPLACING HIM! HE DID NOTHING THAT WARRANTS REPLACEMENT!"  
  
Folken nodded to the lead guard, who then gagged Dirandau to keep him quiet.   
  
"His replacement will join you tomorrow at 1300. I expect his quarters to have been cleaned out and inspected by that time. And I expect you both to be waiting at the entrance of this wing waiting for me."  
  
"Mrflfflefff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
Folken gave the guard another nod, and Dirandau was dragged back to his quarters. Dirandau fought and struggled, as usual. Though the guards outnumbered him, they had difficulty keeping him in check.  
  
Folken sighed.  
  
"He's becoming too difficult to control nowadays..."  
  
The ending of a period of restriction ought to have been a time for celebration. Before that wonderful bit of news Folken had given him, Dirandau had planned to let them all relax. He had even thought of bringing up a few bottles of wine for them to share.  
  
Instead, it was cause to brood. A mark in the slew of things Folken had done to ruin Dirandau's plans.  
  
Dirandau sat on Migueru's bed, watching his friend empty out his dresser. He had been trying for an hour to get a conversation going, but Migueru refused to talk. He was too angry. This left Dirandau feeling very alone. Migueru was the only person he ever really talked to about anything. Now he didn't even have that...  
  
Migueru chucked another pair of skivvies into the box he was using to transport his belongings.  
  
"That bastard," Dirandau said with a sigh as he thought of Folken once more.  
  
He had made more than one change that day to the structure of the Dragonslayers.  
  
It would not have hurt so badly if, as it first appeared, that Folken was only replacing Laurel. Laurel held the lowest position of the Dragonslayers, and so it wasn't a great loss.  
  
But Laurel was not the one being replaced. He was simply being kicked out to allow room for another replacement...Migueru's.  
  
Until now, Dirandau's chain of command had been just as he wanted it. Migueru was the second highest in rank, therefore the only candidate allowable for second in command.  
  
Folken had updated his record, demoting him. Not one rank, not two..but as many as possible without having him be ineligible for the Dragonslayers. It was cruelty mixed with kindness. Folken realized that the two meant a lot to eachother, but he did not want Dirandau to have any excuse to be using Migueru as an advisor. Therefore, he allowed Migueru to stay in, but only as the lowest ranking soldier.  
  
Migueru stared at a pair of his socks before throwing them in as well. He was angry as hell, at everything and everyone.   
  
Migueru had adored Dirandau ever since they first met, had worshipped him just as one would a god. There was nothing that Dirandau couldn't manage, nothing he couldn't change, and no one that could force him into anything. Life was supposed to be perfect now. If he worked hard, nothing bad would happen to him.  
  
It had never been more evident how lacking he was in the ability to do anything. It wasn't his fault, but still...  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Dirandau blinked. This was the first thing that Migueru had said to him in what seemed an eternity.  
  
"Yes?" Dirandau answered.  
  
"I'll report to you in a day or two, " he said, his words cold. It was a rare occasion that he would ever bother to speak in an official manner.  
  
He threw the last of his 'personals' in his box, and pushed it to the side.  
  
He then started on stripping his bed, and on emptying out his closet.  
  
Dirandau watched him for a bit longer before standing up to leave. He couldn't stand it. The constraints Folken had trapped him under felt like they were crushing him.  
  
"Very well," he replied just as officiously. "Don't be late."  
  
1300 came and went. Laurel stood at the outskirts of the wing, waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting...  
  
He was used to it by now. The dragonslayers had inadvertantly been trained to deal with horribly long waiting periods, thanks to Folken always catching Dirandau up in lectures. Through no fault of his own, he was always immensely late.  
  
He stared at Gatty a few times, wondering what that idiot was doing here. He'd come some time ago, and sat down. And now he wouldn't move.  
  
Perhaps he was there to escort Laurel off the premises?  
  
"Hadn't you ought to be at attention if you're waiting for someone?" Laurel inquired.  
  
"And ruin my legs? I should think not."  
  
Laurel resumed staring at the wall ahead of him, standing at attention. When Dirandau did show up, he'd give Gatty hell about this. That was something to look forward to, at least.  
  
Just about everyone else had retreated to their quarters, pondering the situation. All except for Shesta, who had taken the emotional welfare of the group upon himself. He went around to each room, talking with the others individually, and making sure that they were all okay. It was a great comfort to them.  
  
He had reached Migueru's room just in time to see Dirandau stalking off, looking very upset. He attempted to ask Migueru what was going on, but only received a death threat in reply. Hesitating, he walked to Dirandau's quarters and knocked on the door.  
  
There was no reply. He knocked again. Eventually, he gave up on waiting and walked in.  
  
He was a bit...disturbed...upon walking in. The room was neat and clean, but everything that furnished it was damaged in some way. There were things written all over the walls, things which he would try very hard to erase from his memory later on. On one wall, there was nothing but a list of death-threats, describing who he intended to kill and what he intended to do to them. Folken's name appeared frequently.  
  
And then there were spaces covered with incoherent words. They appeared to be some form of poetry. But...cripes... What manner of insanity coated them...what strange experiences had he gone through to write such things?  
  
And then the pictures....Aya! He couldn't have begun to describe them afterwards....such terrible surrealism....all of it was just terrible...  
  
Oh, Shesta would have nightmares about this, that's for certain.  
  
Dirandau had sat down at his desk, lain his head down, and...it seemed to Shesta at first glance that he was crying. However, when he moved closer, he realized that it wasn't crying. It was a torrent of words, said so fast that he couldn't keep up with them.  
  
"....Sir...?"  
  
Shesta was nervous. He knew better than to disturb Dirandau when he was quite obviously already disturbed. But he just couldn't let his lord continue like this. Even if it brought trouble on himself.  
  
Dirandau momentarily stopped talking. He slowly turned his head to look at Shesta. Shesta, with that blonde hair and naive face. Shesta with that demure demeanor and kind heart. Shesta with that...innocence.  
  
Dirandau didn't want to see innocent Shesta.   
  
Dirandau didn't like innocent Shesta.   
  
Dirandau hated innocent Shesta.  
  
Dirandau despised innocent Shesta.   
  
Dirandau wanted to kill innocent Shesta.   
  
Dirandau would shatter the innocence that was Shesta.   
  
Poor Shesta.  
  
"S...s....top...please....." he called out desparately, as Dirandau began slamming him around. Dirandau smashed Shesta's head into a wall, then nearly ripped his arm out of it's socket throwing him to the ground. He continued on in this way, becoming worse and worse. All the while, Shesta cried out and tried to get his lord to listen to him. It was to no avail.  
  
Shesta tried to run away, but Dirandau chased after him. He pinned Shesta to a wall, and began hitting him mercilessly. His hand slipped once, and he slammed it hard against the wall.  
  
This sent him reeling backwards. He allowed himself to drop to the floor. Ever since he had hit Folken's arm, his joints in that hand were damaged, and hitting any flat surface with such force...it was a terrible pain to endure. Both the physical pain and the pain of the memory. That was when all these problems had started.  
  
Shesta's face was now a mess, covered with a mixture of bood and tears. He fell to the floor as well, trembling with pain and exhausted. But, he was still determined to do what he came here to do.  
  
"S....sir...." he began. "I know...tha...t you're hurt...bu..t..y..you...you're not...alone....and....and we care....we care...so v...very much...."  
  
He coughed, some of the blood having run down his throat.  
  
"W...we....don't want...gd...w....e...j...djust...."  
  
His head hit the floor with a thud, and he passed out. So much for his grand idea of helping out.  
  
Dirandau stared at Shesta a moment, coming to his senses somewhat. Shesta would have appreciated if he'd come to them BEFORE this whole incident...but, that was never Dirandau's way.  
  
The irony of this hit him. Shesta was so concerned...only trying to help. Shesta had come to help bear a little of Dirandau's pain. And...well, he was bearing a lot of pain now, wasn't he?  
  
He stared at the product of his work. A bloody compatriot, barely able to move. He saw Shesta's fingers twitch. Poor Shesta...poor half-dead, loyal Shesta.  
  
He felt guilt creeping over him. Such an unbearable feeling. So unbearable that he was completely unable to keep it as his own.  
  
"This is all Folken's fault."  
  
Indeed, he found it incredibly easy to call Folken the root of all his problems. No matter what he did, Folken was the reason why.  
  
Dirandau would never be held accountable for his actions.  
  
He moved closer to Shesta. He brushed the young man's face out of his eyes, useless as the action was. There was so much blood covering his face that clearing it of obstruction did not aid in neatening its appearance.  
  
"You're such a fool," he said. "Trying to get close to me. Don't you know...don't you have a clue?"  
  
Being isolated by that period of restriction had brought to light a facet of his personality which he hadn't noticed before. When he was unable to interact with anyone, he felt no different than before. He felt normal.  
  
And now it was over, and he felt just the same. Why....why couldn't he connect with anybody? They all seemed to feel eachother's presence, but he...  
  
He had a growing sense that there was something peculiar, something wrong with him. He wondered if he'd always feel this way.  
  
There were so many things he was starting to wonder. It's not unusual. When a child starts to grow up, they start to wonder about the lies their caretakers have been telling them all along. They start to wonder who they are, and what damage has been done to them.  
  
He wanted to ask, but...who could he ask? And even if he could, he wouldn't. There was some sense of impending dread he got every time he thought about asking. As if something terrible would happen. Or...as if he knew that the answers would be terrible, ones he would be unable to live with if he knew the answers.  
  
He took the cover off of his bed, and laid it over Shesta.  
  
He looked at Shesta's damaged body once more. How could he? He was no medical expert, but he knew he'd practically killed the boy. Shesta depended on him, and in return had received an attempt on his life. Was that the mark of a good leader?  
  
No. It was not.  
  
He couldn't let this happen again.  
  
Without another look back, he walked out the door, resigned to deal with whatever was to happen.  
  
He refused to think another moment about Shesta's condition, about what he had done. If he dwelled upon it, he was likely to do something similar again soon.  
  
In a manner which he deemed much more healthy, he turned all his hatred towards Folken and all that was connected to him.  
  
It was 1430, and Folken still hadn't shown up.  
  
"Damn it...he's an hour and a half late. If he's going to screw me over, he could at least be on time to do it!"  
  
Gatty rolled his eyes.  
  
"And you are more in the right because you were only an hour late?"  
  
"You dare question me? You hold no power here anymore, remember? Restriction is over." Dirandau said, glowering at him.  
  
"I'm only pointing out an error. You ought to thank me."  
  
Dirandau's expression changed to a smirk. A dangerous one.  
  
"And I think I'll point out an error to you in return...you are below me in rank. And I have the right to discipline anyone below me."  
  
"Yes, but Folken is above you. And if you 'discipline' me, as you call it, he'll be certain to give you his own brand of unhappiness."  
  
"Says who? There are no witnesses."  
  
Dirandau moved closer to Gatty.  
  
"Except, of course, Laurel. And he's on my side. Aren't you, Laurel?"  
  
"Absolutely, sir," Laurel said with a smirk.  
  
"There, you see? That equation I told you about earlier...I don't think you learned it the first time. Prepare for a remedial math lesson."  
  
Gatty stood up and took a defensive stance.  
  
"Anytime you're ready...'sir'..."  
  
"Is that the best insult you've got? You deserve to be killed for sheer unoriginality!"  
  
Dirandau struck Gatty hard in the face. Though Gatty was prepared, he was still thrown back by it. He hopped back up and whip-kicked Dirandau in the stomach. Dirandau was sent back, but with the same resilience Gatty was showing, he got right back into the fight.  
  
Dirandau tried to get a clear shot to Gatty's face again, but Gatty was wary now. He had figured out that those kinds of hits were Dirandau's forte when it came to hand-to-hand fighting. He kept his hands close to his head, so that he'd have an easy time blocking anything.  
  
He smirked. He had one-upped Dirandau, and Dirandau was now very frustrated because of this.  
  
"Your turn."  
  
"You want to play games, huh? Then fine. We'll play my way."  
  
Dirandau unsheathed his katana, smiling.  
  
The sound of that sharpened blade destroyed any semblance of confidence in Gatty. Gatty, a simple cleric, did not own a sword, nor did he know how to fight with one. He had learned fist-fighting and hand-to-hand combat because he had wanted to know, because he might actually find use for it. [And because it was relaxing, in some strange sense, because it was relaxing.] But swordfighting was not something he had thought he'd ever need to know about, nor was it something his status would have allowed him to study.   
  
So, he not only had no weapon, but he also had no idea what the hell Dirandau was going to do and how to defend himself against it.  
  
Perfect.  
  
Dirandau advanced slowly. Gatty retreated in as efficient a manner as he could muster. He ran for the entrance of the hallway, but Dirandau beat him to it.  
  
In no time, Dirandau had him backed up against a wall, his blade pressed against Gatty's throat.  
  
"You've been troubling me for so long. I think I ought to return the favor."  
  
Gatty stared ahead, standing at attention. He was resigned. If he was to die, then so be it. He'd die maintaining his military bearing, right to the end.  
  
And, of course, just as Dirandau was about to end this, Folken came by.  
  
Dirandau dropped his sword and groaned.  
  
"Damnit....if you were going to be so late, why'd you have to show up at all!"  
  
"I'm a strange individual, remember? Nothing I do makes any sense," he said nonchalantly.  
  
"Is everything taken care of for the changeover?"  
  
"Yes," Dirandau said. A puzzled, anxious look was on his face. "But...we can't do this unless the replacement is here."  
  
He dreaded this answer.  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
Gatty rubbed his throat, dwelling over what might have happened if Folken hadn't shown up. He tried not to be annoyed that Folken didn't even give a damn that Gatty had nearly lost his head...but it was impossible.  
  
He wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible, and get back to his office, where everyone was much more sensible.  
  
"Sir, if you wouldn't mind taking care of another issue first, could you tell me what you wanted me to come here for? There are pressing matters which I must attend to."  
  
Dirandau glared at Gatty for interrupting him. He swore, after this was over, he was going to have Migueru show him where Gatty's office was, and the both of them would take care of him.  
  
His eyes went flat at the thought of Migueru. Whoever was replacing him had better be good. Anyone less than the best that Dirandau could expect would be in a whole hell of a lot of trouble.  
  
"I believe, Gatty, that you will find it a few other matters more pressing...such as finding a way to ensure that your new Lord doesn't kill you."  
  
"AAAAAHYaYAyaYA!!! I Knew it!!!!" Dirandau shrieked. "I knew you were going to do something stupid like this! Replace Migueru with an admin officer? Are you insane??? He doesn't even know how to fight!"  
  
Dirandau ranted on, his words eventually fading into background noise.  
  
Gatty stared up at Folken, unnerved.  
  
"....sir.......how am I....I mean.......are you serious?"  
  
Folken nodded. "Yes. You're exactly what he needs for a second: Someone who's willing to admit when he's wrong, and who will actually do the job rather than be a friend."  
  
"But....sir.....he'll...he's psychotic! And he's going to kill me!"  
  
"I know it's a difficult undertaking, Gatty. But I know that you are an upstanding young man. You can do it. You have the strength and the courage. And I will be here if anything goes terribly wrong. We need him, but he needs someone responsible and confident to depend on. Will you accept this?"  
  
Gatty watched Dirandau for a moment, who was making wild hand movements and talking to nobody in particular. He shut his eyes.  
  
"I'm going to hate myself for this," he thought.  
  
He bowed to Folken, and stood back up at attention.  
  
"I will accept the responsibility, Lord Folken."  
  
"Oh no you won't! You're going to hi-tail it out of here now! And I'm never going to see you around here again!! Folken's crazy. And I'm going to report him...and then we'll all be perfectly fine."  
  
It didn't matter what Dirandau said. No one was paying attention to him now.  
  
"Go and retrieve your things, Gatty. You have one hour."  
  
Gatty bowed, and left to fulfill that order. He bit his lip walking down the corridors. His future suddenly looked very bleak...and very short.  
  
Dirandau made a cry that sounded as if someone were trying to rip his head apart.  
  
"Folken, you can't do this to me!!! What-"  
  
Folken grabbed one of Dirandau's hands, which had been held in front of him, open but clenched in a questioning manner.  
  
"Before we discuss anything else, I'd like you to explain why you have blood on your hands."  
  
That shut Dirandau up right-quick. He stared at nothing in particular, and did not struggle because he knew Folken wasn't going to let go.  
  
Folken stared at him, stared through him. He'd seen this before. He already knew...and yet, he had hope...well, the answer could be different than normal. This boy's life was not inescapably connected with the destruction of all things that came in contact with his hands.  
  
"Dirandau?"  
  
He seemed unable to hear Folken. He was lost in his own thoughts. At least, he appeared so. More likely, he was using the appearance of a low attention span to avoid explaining.  
  
"Alright then. I won't hold you to explanations that will damage your fragile ego. Just tell me...am I going to have to alert the medical ward that another of your soldiers is going to be staying for a few weeks?"  
  
Dirandau couldn't think about this now. He couldn't deal with it, with the memory. It had to be blocked out.  
  
Dirandau kicked him in the shins, trying to get away.  
  
"What I do with my men is my own business, not yours," he snarled.  
  
Folken shut his eyes. So it was true? How disappointing...  
  
"Dirandau, it is poorly served for a group to spend more time in the infirmary during peaceful activity than as the result of battle."  
  
"Cripes! Can I help it if-"  
  
"No you can't. However, even if it's not your fault, you must stop this."  
  
He didn't want to listen to another edition of that same old theory - that everyone else was always responsible. Dirandau had the ability to make it sound so plausible.  
  
Dirandau began sulking where he stood. Folken could see the signs of disobedience already. He wasn't going to listen to good advice. He never did. Not unless he had cause to fear something worse happening, were he to continue his present behavior.  
  
"I don't know what makes you do this, why you try to destroy those you have often said you care about. The only people you've ever said that about. Were you lying all those times?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you testing their endurance?"  
  
"No."  
  
"So why do you do this?"  
  
".........."  
  
"I fail to understand your actions."  
  
"As if I understand them any better than you..." Dirandau thought.  
  
At the moment, he didn't quite understand it himself. He couldn't reason out why when he held a glass, his grip became tightened and his nerves overworked themselves. He couldn't reason out why there were holes in the walls that he didn't remember making. Or why everything he touched seem to crush and die. He felt slightly out of touch, as if he were no longer in control of his actions.  
  
Of all people, he had the least idea of what he was doing or why.  
  
"If it happens again, I'm putting you on four months restriction, and every last one of your chosen soldiers is being replaced. If you refuse to show them anything but abuse, then they will be sent to other officers who actually know how to lead."  
  
Folken released his hand, and Dirandau started walking away.  
  
"And," he added, "I'll be sure to let your guards know why you've gotten restriction. The lower orders happen to dislike this kind of abuse."  
  
He hoped that even if it was impossible to appeal to Dirandau's good character and morals [For it grew increasingly apparent that Dirandau had no conventional ones to speak of], then he could at least appeal to the boy's fear. It seemed to work. Dirandau's reply of 'Yes, Lord Folken,' betrayed his troubled nerves and uneasyness of mind.  
  
It was the best Folken could hope for. If Dirandau couldn't be changed, he could at least be controlled. He'd still serve his purpose to the army after all.  
  
Gatty hadn't much to bring with him. Just some bedding, his uniforms [Which he'd have to trade in later], and a few books. He wasn't one for useless keepsakes.  
  
The other Dragonslayers had congregated in small groups at eachother's doors. Gossiping, as they were often wont to do. They had two months of catching up to do, and were wasting no time about it.  
  
When Gatty came round the corner, they immediately snapped shut, and everything became quiet. Two months of restriction had taught them that Gatty equals dead silence.  
  
He walked down the line of them with eyes staring straight ahead, seeming much like the image of one running the gauntlet. They threw hateful glares at him, plentiful as daggars in a thieves den. The indignity they had suffered at his hand was still very much fresh in their minds. And he would not be forgiven lightly.  
  
Gatty looked down on the information he'd been given for the room number. When the others saw that he was walking into Migueru's quarters, they gathered round the doorway, excited. Migueru was mad as hell, and he was well-known for his temper. In some ways, it matched that of their Lord.  
  
Some placed bets on whether or not Gatty would come back out alive.  
  
It did not register in Migueru's mind that Gatty was the one who had entered. Actually, he'd been so focused on his angry thoughts that he hardly noticed the entrance of another person at all.  
  
Seeing that Migueru wasn't quite finished packing up, Gatty sat down on the bed, and waited. Migueru, not willing to pay attention to who it was, assumed that it was Dirandau, come to try and talk to him again.  
  
His eyes narrowed.  
  
"So...sir, you think I'm incapable of placing items in boxes on my own, sir?"  
  
Migueru angrily slammed the second packing box against the wall. He had one more box to fill, mostly with his remaining uniforms and weapons accoutrements. It was an extensive collection.  
  
"Sir, I'll report in at the proper time as ordered and promised, sir. Until then, sir...this evolution does not require supervision, sir."  
  
Migueru's overuse of the word 'sir' amused Gatty, after having seen many times Migueru's lack of military bearing in speech.  
  
"Oh, alright. If you really want, I'll leave."  
  
Migueru became wide eyed. He whipped around, angry and in shock.  
  
"What the hell...??? What are you doing here? Vacate my quarters immediately!!!!"  
  
Gatty shrugged.  
  
"Oh, I would. If these were your quarters."  
  
"How dare you..." Migueru hissed, his eyes flashing venemously. "Does Dirandau even know you're here? I swear, when he finds out that you've been-"  
  
"Of course he knows. And I'll thank you not to talk about him in such an informal manner. He's your commander. Speak as such."  
  
Migueru rolled his eyes.  
  
"You break into my room to lecture me? You really are insane for a prig, you know that?"  
  
"No, I don't. You should tell me about it some other time."  
  
"Oh, just give me the time and place. We'll have tea. I'm not much for talking, though. I prefer to let my sword do that...."  
  
Migueru smiled, thinking of how lovely that blonde headed idiot would look with a few slices in him.  
  
"You really ought to learn to control your mouth a little more, Migueru. It'll cost you on evaluations."  
  
"So? Dirandau doesn't look for that sort of thing...not from me, anyway. He and I have an...understanding."  
  
"Yes, but you have no such understanding from me. And I don't treat evaluations with light concern."  
  
Migueru stared at Gatty as if he'd suddenly gained a personality and a life.  
  
"Evals are a month away. You'll be long-gone by then. Why would Folken drag you back just to have you take our evals?"  
  
It was then that he noticed Gatty's little packet of belongings.  
  
Migueru grimaced as it finally hit him.   
  
Gatty smirked.  
  
"You soldiers are all so very thick-headed. I was wondering how long it was going to take you."  
  
He undid the string holding his belongings together, and set everything neatly out next to him on the bed.  
  
Migueru stared at him, eye twitching.  
  
"He's got his stuff on my bed...he's got his stuff on my bed...idiot...cleric...stuff on bed...damnit...no...!!!"  
  
Migueru's thoughts repeated themselves over and over. He couldn't fathom it. His room...Gatty was going to live in his room....gaaaaaaaah!!!!!!!!  
  
He wanted to beat Gatty senseless, but..well, Gatty -was- going to be in charge of his evaluations. If he screwed up, the cleric was certain to have him kicked out at a moment's notice. It had been hard enough on him to be demoted. To be kicked out altogether would be unbearable.  
  
So, with as much prudence as he possessed, he simply clenched his fists and walked out.  
  
And then he pummelled the first thing he came in contact with - Viore's head. He then proceeded towards the training hall, intending to work out some of his feelings.  
  
Guimel helped Viore back up. Viore, though his face was now sore and bleeding, was smiling as happy as a fool.  
  
Guimel looked at him, one eyebrow raised.  
  
"And what the hell could you possibly have to be so happy about?"  
  
"I won the bet...you all owe me credits for a year! Ha!!"  
  
The others groaned, wishing they'd have been the stupid ones to make such a long-shot bet. Dalet looked very uncomfortable. He'd lied. He didn't have anythingThi to back up his wager. This was a terrible habit with him when it came to gambling. Dirandau could attest to that. Dalet was probably going to be in debt to Lord Dirandau for the rest of his life.  
  
He smiled sheepishly.  
  
"Uh....would you care for some food appropriated from the kitchens instead?"  
  
"Hell no!" Viore shouted. "If I wanted that, I certainly wouldn't trust -you- to get it for me. First off, you always get caught. Second, when you actually do manage to escape with something, you never come back with the good kind."  
  
The Dragonslayers had begun gaining unofficial notoriety among the other groups. There wasn't a day that went by in the chow halls they frequented that the staff wasn't buzzing about their recent 'expedition'. Thankfully, the staff had no proof, and Dirandau hadn't heard the rumors. Otherwise they would have been in major trouble. [No one knew for certain, but they had a good idea that Dirandau would not be happy that they were more well known for thievery than for their swordsmanship.]  
  
"How about a bottle of wine?" The wine cells, thank goodness, were less well-guarded than the kitchens. For some reason, the officials didn't mind letting the lower orders drink themselves to death. Probably because if they were drunk, they were satiated and not apt to complain. [How else could you explain the fact that they would turn a blind eye to a group of alcoholic eleven year olds?]   
  
"Make it three, and you're on."  
  
"Alright, three...but the last two aren't going to be the good stuff."  
  
"How about two of the good stuff, and then a bottle of beer?"  
  
The two bartered on, trading off things. Eventually, they decided on one bottle of 'the good stuff,' two months worth of uniform repair and preparation, and Dalet volunteering for the next two punishments that Dirandau decided to give Viore.  
  
At 1400 the next day, the Dragonslayers filed into the training hall, and lined up according to rank. Dirandau walked down the line of them, looking them over. They looked decent. Nothing more than decent, though. Dirandau would let it slide this time. They didn't have time to waste at the moment. They HAD to catch up on their training.  
  
He noted two empty spaces in the line. One for Shesta. And one for...hmmm...That was certainly interesting. It seemed as if Folken's young friend had decided not to show up.  
  
Very interesting.  
  
"Alright..." he began.  
  
"This is the first time we've been able to train for two months. I swear, if I catch anyone slacking off now...."  
  
He gave them a dangerous glare.  
  
"Understood?"  
  
A chorus of "Yes, Sir" was heard.  
  
He set them off on an easy warm-up. Two hour's worth of drills, drills, and more drills. Practicing minute details in their techniques and footwork.  
  
After this came one-on-one sparring. Nothing unusual. [Except for the fact that Dirandau had to keep stepping in and reprimanding Migueru for not keeping in mind who was as good as him and who wasn't. It was all some of them could do to keep him from slicing their heads off. He was still angry...so very angry...]  
  
Dirandau let this continue on for an hour and a half, then set them on attack and defense drills. The difficulty increased with each evolution. It was a set-up for their final task of the day - all out attack drills.  
  
All out attack drills were a great deal of fun, even though they were extremely tiring. Using everything you have until you keel over. To a true fighter, there is no greater high, there is nothing to be enjoyed more.  
  
When they were about three-fourths of the way through their attack and defense drills, a haggard and worn Gatty stumbled into the training hall. It had been a long morning.  
  
First, he'd had to get the rather extensive uniform issue which went along with being one of Dirandau's soldiers.   
  
Before, he had only one type - His normal working uniform, which also served as a ceremonial uniform. Simple, easy to maintain, and non-space-consuming.  
  
Soldiers had a different type of issue, with three sets of each type, and each of those with a separate pair of boots. There was the practice uniform, cleaning-detail uniform, two styles of battle dress uniform[One for wet weather, one for dry], ceremonial uniform [which was foolish for them to have, because everyone always wanted to see them in battle dress at ceremonies.], relaxed gear uniform, and then the various bits of padding. First he had to be measured. Then re-measured to make sure the first measuring was correct. Then he had to wait an undeterminable amount of time while one of the clerks rummaged about the back to find the right sizes. After that, he had to try everything on, and the fitters measured for tailoring, for each and every uniform.  
  
He now understood why the requisition officers down the hall were always in such horrible dispositions - their job was a never-ending hell.  
  
Half-way through, he gave up and decided that he'd better cut-and-run, so as to cut down on how late he was going to be. He managed to escape with his practice and relaxed uniforms, and one pair of boots.  
  
After that, he had to pick up his record, in order to turn it over to the right handlers.  
  
Even though he was now technically in the Dragonslayers, he was still technically required to fulfill the duties of his administrative position. Despite his protests that he had other things to take care of, he was forced into taking care of all the work that had piled up. [That week, numerous officers had completed their physical readiness tests. There were always mounds and mounds of papers when those came around.] It would have been kind of his fellow administrators to take the work since they knew he was having a busy adjustment period, but...no. Any excuse to dump paperwork on someone else never went unused in that office.  
  
  
  
And as usual when he started any task, a myriad of other service members came in, mostly soldiers, demanding help with their work. After all, they did have a good excuse: Soldiers aren't given any office training, and clerics are given far too much. To be a resident expert in decorum and filing was a Cleric's purpose in life. If he attempted to brush them off, they'd throw a royal fit until taken care of. [And if you think popularity is a desirable thing among clerics, think again. The better you are, the more they stalk you.]  
  
Officers could be such demanding children....  
  
When he eventually found a way to escape unseen, he was so dead-tired from running around that he could hardly keep going. He'd missed both breakfast and lunch, and felt nearly faint. [Because, poor guy, he had also missed the evening meal the night before.] Luckily, chow hall staff lived in the kitchens, and he was able to beg them for something. [It was then he learned never to use the phrase, 'Just give me something. Anything.' around kitchen staff. He prayed that blue was that stuff's original color...whatever the hell it was.]  
  
When he had finished choking down the left-overs he received, he dashed over to the armory and pick up a sword, and ran to the training hall.  
  
When Gatty stumbled into the doorway, everyone stopped what they were doing. They looked at Dirandau, wondering what he was going to do. He was a very strict individual, and did not hold with tardiness at all. To top that off, he didn't like Gatty in the first place. This was going to be...memorable.  
  
Dirandau strode over to Gatty, who presently fell to his knees. [This wasn't so much to show respect as it was the result of his fatigue.]  
  
"Do you have any idea how late you are?"  
  
Gatty couldn't help a slight smirk creeping on his face.  
  
"No, sir. It seems as if I couldn't get near a clock today, sir," he stated, his voice imbued with sarcasm. He had taken to mocking himself and everything he experienced, as a way of dealing with the ridiculousness of life in a dictatorship bureacracy.  
  
As if replying to an instant reflex, he struck Gatty to the ground.  
  
Dirandau clenched his fists together, staring at him. He wanted so badly to smash Gatty's face in. But...Folken's threat...  
  
Dirandau had hardly been able to deal with a month's worth of restriction. Four months would be unbearable, especilly when it was the fault of that cleric. And he owed it to his men to protect them. He would protect them at the sacrifice of his own satisfaction.  
  
[Not to mention the fact that Gatty hadn't had his physical yet, and therefore was 'untouchable' at the moment.]  
  
"He's trying to defeat me....that's why he was late. He knows how badly I want to hurt him," he thought. "And now he's trying to provide me with more reasons."  
  
Dirandau became resolved not to draw Gatty's blood. Not on purpose, anyway...  
  
"Get up!" Dirandau ordered. Gatty complied, rising shakily to his feet. He fought valiantly against those recurring feelings of helplessness. He failed.  
  
"This will not be tolerated in the future. Understand?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"As it stands, you've missed nearly the whole practice. You may think that an hour or two is all that's necessary, since that's what the other teams take for practice...but that small amount of time won't work."  
  
"I understand sir. I myself never spent less than three hours at a time when I trained myself."  
  
"What training?"  
  
"Martial arts, sir. Self-defense."  
  
A wave of understanding came over Dirandau's face. So that's why he was able to threaten Migueru so well out in the hallway. He had been wondering how, as strong as Migueru was, his best soldier had been so easily defeated.  
  
Dirandau didn't hold with non-weapons training, seeing it as useless for one of Zaibach's elite fencing divisions. Thus, none of them had learned how to decently defend themselves without a sword. Under normal circumstances, they were expected never to be without one.  
  
"I know a little of sword-training as well, sir. We have a few manuals on it in my office."  
  
Some of the Dragonslayers were unable to subdue snickers and laughs. Zaibach fencing manuals...right...as if they were worth using for anything but propping up uneven tables...  
  
"I take it, then, that you feel confident in your fighting abilities?"  
  
"Of course, sir."  
  
He truly was confident. The naive little fool...  
  
"Very well. Then there's no need to start slowly. And, of course, you won't be bothered by joining in right where we left off."  
  
"Absolutely not, sir."  
  
Gatty had been slightly deluded by Dirandau's calm and civil attitude. He was under the impression that this was a straight-forward conversation. He had no idea that Dirandau only acted thusly to those he considered enemies, whom he would most likely soon see destroyed.  
  
The delusion, coupled with the ludicrous assumption that participating in a Dragonslayer's training evolution was not going to be impossibly difficult, was the setting for his failure.  
  
"Dragonslayers, line up!" Dirandau called. They all dashed to their respective places, sheathing their swords as they ran to save time.  
  
Dirandau gave Gatty, who was still standing next to him, a curious glare. After a few clueless looks from Gatty, Dirandau finally had to say it.  
  
"That means you too....."  
  
"Oh! Aye, sir!"  
  
His face flushed red, thoroughly embarassed. It was strange for him to be responding to the title of Dragonslayer. It was the same as if someone had changed his name against his will. They could continually call him what they wanted, but he would always see himself as someone else.  
  
He started for the head of the line, but was held back by Dirandau.  
  
"You know, it's so coincidental that you've studied self-defense. That's one of the subjects we've been working on today. And we were just about to start a new evolution..."  
  
Dirandau practically threw him to the middle of the training hall. He landed on the floor with a dull thud.  
  
"All out attack drill #4. Five minutes."  
  
Shouts of, "Yes, Lord Dirandau!" were heard. Instantly, Gatty found himself surrounded by the Dragonslayers, swords unsheathed.  
  
He shuts his eyes.  
  
"He's got to be kidding!" Gatty thought.  
  
Dirandau put up the chair he'd had placed in the room for him, so that he could have a better time of watching.  
  
"So, here's the scenario: You've just lost all your compatriots, and have been surrounded by your relentless enemies in their own territory. No reinforcements or help of any kind are likely to show up any time soon. It's all up to you."  
  
Gatty rolled his eyes.  
  
"And what part of that is fictional?" he wondered in his head.  
  
"Since it's you're first time, all you have to do is survive. I don't expect you to defeat the rest of them...this time. Understood?"  
  
Gatty hesitated. He could buy himself some time by lying. But...lying would probably make Dirandau angry at him. Angrier. He didn't feel like needlessly pushing any buttons.  
  
"Yes, sir," he said, his voice betraying dismay. Dirandau smirked upon hearing that.  
  
"Good. You may begin."  
  
Gatty stood up and drew his sword as the others closed in around him. The thing was heavier than he thought it'd be. But, that wouldn't inhibit him much. His arms were strong from lugging large stacks of paper around all day long.  
  
Migueru moved slowly in on Gatty. He had been waiting for this chance.  
  
"Lord Dirandau...are there any orders for us?"  
  
Dirandau looked up at the ceiling, thoughtfully.  
  
After a moment, he said, "Don't kill him," lightly, as if it weren't all that important for them to keep in mind.  
  
"Your compassion overwhelms me," Gatty said through grit teeth.  
  
What followed was as close to a massacre as anything could be without blood.   
  
By the end of the first minute, he'd received about thirty deep bruises and nearly sprained both his wrists. They were being kind to him, using the dull edge of their blades to hit him with.   
  
By the second, he had definitely damaged his left wrist, and was now resorting to fighting one-handed. He also learned, thanks to whacks to his spinal chord, why the chiropracter always told him to quit whining any time he dared to come see them. [He suffered slight back problems, stemming from the same activity that had strengthened his arms. But it was nothing compared to what the soldiers got from fooling around in their practices.]  
  
By the third, he had become locked in a fight with Migueru. Migueru was intent on crashing his sword down on Gatty's head...and he had neglected to use the flat of his blade for it. So, with the proverbial hand tied behind his back, he used all the strength he could manage to resist Migueru's blade while trying to stay away from the others. Luckily, he'd backed himself up into a wall and they couldn't get behind him.  
  
By the tenth second of the fourth minute, he lay on the floor, defeated and racked with pain. While his sword was employed resisting Migueru's, someone had slid theirs behind his legs, and pulled forward, thus causing his knees to bend. It was tricky, but they managed it. Dirandau had schooled them well in under-handed tactics.  
  
The pressure Migueru was exerting on him had forced him to fall.  
  
Migueru put his foot on Gatty's back and pressed down hard.  
  
"You know what...I should just kill you here....you're not needed. You failed. Our Lord needs no such soldier on his hands...one that he'd have to take care of."  
  
Gatty could hardly defend himself verbally. He was too busy trying to breathe with Migueru crushing him.  
  
"Get...off.me....you're...too fat..for this...."  
  
Even though they knew he'd kill them for it later, the others laughed at that joke [Or at least, what they thought was a joke. Gatty was being completely serious.]. Migueru was incensed at this insult.  
  
"I'm not fat. This is all muscle..."  
  
"No it's not. I know how much you eat."  
  
Migueru pressed harder.  
  
"Die..."  
  
"That's enough," Dirandau said, with much hesitation. He would love to have let Migueru follow through completely...but...no...he couldn't. Folken was serious about that warning. He really would get rid of every last one of the Dragonslayers...and Dirandau would never even get the chance to work with them out in the field. Not once!  
  
That would be such a shame after all the work he'd put into them.  
  
Migueru looked immensely hurt.  
  
"But..my lord, he-"  
  
"Yes, I know," Dirandau said with a nod. "Still, I order you not to kill him."  
  
Migueru bowed, his facial features and voice thoroughly soaked in indignance and embitterment.  
  
"As you say, sir. I shall let the bastard live..."  
  
He removed his foot, and backed off.  
  
"But don't expect me to be happy about it," he said, and presently stalked out of the room. Dirandau, though hesitant to do so, said nothing to impede his passage. Migueru was upset, and needed to sulk. It was the only thing Dirandau could offer him.  
  
Migueru was becoming increasingly disobedient, and his insolence was sure to prove problematic. Dirandau was not doing much to combat it at the moment, as he knew exactly how Migueru felt. He saw in Migueru much of himself, and didn't want to hurt him any further.  
  
But...soon, he'd have to be more authoritative. He could show no lenience, even to those he cared about.  
  
Attention came back to the center of the room. Dirandau stared down at Gatty, who was fighting against the pain and trying to sit up. It annoyed him. Stay down...he should just stay down...  
  
"Clear the floor of all obstruction, and start another #4. And..."  
  
He glanced at the group, choosing someone at random.  
  
"Viore, it's your turn."  
  
They carried Gatty, the 'obstruction' Dirandau was talking about, off to the side. He leaned against the wall, watching contemptuously. He watched Viore whipping about, slashing up and down...doing so much better than he could have done even if he weren't dead tired. He was angry at himself and at them. And jealous. How much time had they had to train? To do something they so loved? He tolerated his work, but he never enjoyed it as these soldiers seemed to. Perhaps he might have if everyone else had been as much of a perfectionist as he was...  
  
Dirandau kept slipping him arrogant smirks, until the practice was over. As if to say that he was well on his way to winning this little battle.  
  
"Yeah...just keep it up, you arrogant bastard," Gatty thought. "I may fall easy, but I always get back up. Always. Keep it up. I'll make you wish you'd never eased your way to the top."  
  
After practice, Dirandau ordered the other Dragonslayers to take care of Gatty. Much as he hated him, he wouldn't leave Gatty to lay there helpless on the floor. It was a cruelty he couldn't bring himself to commit...  
  
The others tried to drag Gatty off to medical, but he refused. He knew he needed to go, but he refused anyway. After being helped up, he made it a point to walk under his own power back to his quarters. This slightly impressed the others, though they dared not show it.  
  
Once he was out of sight behind closed doors, he collapsed on the bed and passed out.  
  
He was supposed to report to Lord Folken later that day about his experiences thus far, but, for understandable reasons, did not show. Folken, ever suspicious and ready to reprimand, had come down to the wing to investigate. Without waiting to talk to Dirandau, he had gone into Gatty's quarters. Needless to say, he wasn't pleased when he saw Gatty's condition.  
  
Dirandau came in minutes later, having been informed by the person he'd put on 'spy duty' that Folken was messing about [which was never, ever a good thing for the Dragonslayers.] Folken was sitting at Gatty's desk, scribbling on some papers.  
  
Dirandau grimaced.  
  
"Paper...paper is not good," he thought. Paperwork, as much as he mocked it, was a powerful weapon for those who understood it. He knew very little, and it frightened him.  
  
"Lord Folken, what's the meaning of this?"  
  
"After you tell me the meaning of this," Folken said, gesturing towards Gatty.  
  
Dirandau's face scrunched up.  
  
"Damnit, I told them to take care of him..."  
  
He'd have to berate them later for not dragging him to medical.  
  
"Well, it seems as if you took care of him well enough."  
  
Dirandau's eyes went wide, and his breaths came short and quick. This..no...no!  
  
"Lord Folken..it's not what you think...really...I didn't-"  
  
"Save your excuses, Dirandau. I will hear no more."  
  
"But I didn't....! That was from practice! I told you he couldn't fight...but he agreed to do it...He can tell you...he..."  
  
His face fell. Why should Gatty tell Folken anything?  
  
"Doubtless, you've had him practice his lines well. But it will do you no good. He is not the type to lie for those who are dishonest, even if you did torture him to the point of telling you he would. He puts that sort of dishonesty in the same category as dishonor, and honor is of the greatest importance to him. He won't give his up for your sake."  
  
Folken continued writing. Dirandau approached him cautiously, almost hoping that treading lightly would reverse the effects of this trying ordeal.  
  
"W...what are those...?"  
  
"You know perfectly well. Transfer papers. 13 of them."  
  
"Folken, you can't!!" he cried, his voice overcome with desparation. "You just can't! I need them!"  
  
"You'll do just as well with another group. And perhaps you'll have learned your lesson after this."  
  
"But...I...need...them...."  
  
Dirandau fell backwards against the wall. How could Folken be so relentlessly cruel and merciless? Always forcing Dirandau into corners, and then berating him for having been so foolish as to get trapped.  
  
After his initial sulk, he thought about Folken's words. That transfer...Folken was transferring them immediately. Not only was this unspeakably cruel, but it was contradictory.  
  
"You..! What do you mean telling me that we couldn't be transferred out fo here for months, and then out of the blue, you get the power to do so??"  
  
Folken continued writing, not looking up at Dirandau.  
  
"I never told you that I couldn't do it," he said calmly.  
  
"Chk...just that you wouldn't, huh?"  
  
"You needed to be kept back here. You still do."  
  
Hatred, pure unalterated hatred showed through Dirandau's eyes. Finally, that jackass was admitting bluntly what he'd done. There was no mistake. He had kept him there out of some personal vendetta, and intended to continue to do so. No matter what he did or did not do, Folken was determined to keep him. To own him.  
  
Dirandau's face became calm, devoid of anxiety or fear. Losing everything did interesting work on his spirit. It stripped him away of everything, and left only a kamikaze nature.  
  
"So...I belong to you. That means you have to keep perfect track of me, doesn't it? That's why you're always around...why you never leave me alone...right? Of course it is. You need to have me close by. You..need me...."  
  
Folken knew well enough that when Dirandau began talking like that, rambling on calmly, something negative was going to happen.  
  
Still looking down, he said, "Dirandau, don't try anything. Anything, you hear?"  
  
When there was no response, he looked up. To his surprize, Dirandau was no longer there. He stepped out in the hall, but there was no trace of the boy.  
  
A slight smirk crept on Folken's face.  
  
"Playing hide and seek as a way of revenge? How...childish."  
  
He did not intend for the game to last long. This training center may have been a large one, but it wasn't huge. And there were only so many places that Dirandau could hide in.  
  
And he was so wonderfully flamboyant...he couldn't hide. No way. Not forever.  
  
Folken gave the messenger a blank stare, seeming to have left the world for a moment. The messenger became a tad bit uncomfortable, not knowing what the hell was going on.  
  
"...sir?"  
  
After a moment, Folken questioned him again.  
  
"You locked down the galley like I told you?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Everyone is keeping an extra careful watch in the kitchens. They haven't seen him at all."  
  
"Are you certain?"  
  
The messenger coughed, a little awkward about this. He didn't want to insult the commander by pointing out the obvious.  
  
"....sir...it would be impossible to miss someone who looks like him. He's highly recognizable. And he's loud, sir. Very loud."  
  
Folken nodded.  
  
"Yes, of course. And you've made certain to keep all watches on high alert?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"And the Dragonslayer's wing...that is locked-down as well?"  
  
"Yes, sir. They can't go anywhere on there own. Restriction officers couldn't do a better job."  
  
Folken knew better than to allow them to be free during such a situation. They would find their Lord and help him continue an existence in hiding.  
  
"Re-check that everything is locked down. Set out a roving search, and tell all those on cleaning detail to keep alert as well. It's important that we get him back. He's a...high maintenance individual. It is imperative that he be found before something happens to him that we don't know about."  
  
"Understood, sir."  
  
The messenger left Folken alone with the myriad of paperwork that was now in front of him. UA slips for every event of each day that Dirandau had gone missing; warnings and lectures from the sorcerers who were deeply concerned about this new development; complaints from various staff members that Folken's little UA project was committing vile acts against them; and several anonymous letters from the people who feared for their lives [Which mainly consisted of messengers.].  
  
This was indeed a nightmare for the training center, having that little psycho running loose with no boundaries. He was well-known, respected by many, but feared by all. Some knew of his capabilities for intelligence. The rest just knew of his propensity towards violence, and the frequent recurrence of it which kept the medical ward nearest his station full at all times. Many believed it was only a matter of time before they would have dead bodies piling up.  
  
And, they all held Folken responsible. Even Folken had to appreciate how well Dirandau was orchestrating his revenge. Such a simple method...yet so effective.  
  
Meanwhile, back at the wing, the Dragonslayers were constantly chattering away about their feelings on Dirandau's dissapearance. They were worried sick about him. There was no telling how much trouble he was going to be in after this. [And they knew he'd come back sometime. Even if they didn't find him, he wouldn't abandone everything just to spite Folken. He wanted his career, and couldn't have it hiding in a closet.]   
  
They just prayed that Folken wouldn't beat him up. As much punishment as they received, they had no desire to see Dirandau hurt.  
  
Gatty was back in charge of them, trying his best to take care of things, and to try and be accepted by them. He didn't care if they liked him or not, but he did need to reach an understanding with them in order for this to be an effective group.  
  
He ran things as best he could, though his lack of technical knowledge was obvious. And no one was about to help him.   
  
A typical training evolution during this time went as follows:   
  
1. Wait for Gatty to screw up.  
  
2. Point.  
  
3. Laugh.  
  
It would have been bearable if Migueru had given him the slightest bit of advice, but Migueru, of course, was being pigheaded about the whole ordeal. He kept to his own schedule, and avoided the rest of the group at all costs. When Gatty did ask for advice, he received death threats, if he received a reply at all.  
  
By the end of the first week, Gatty had given up on trying to run things. It was impossible without help. He merely made up their schedules and told them to take care of eachother.  
  
He tried to make himself useful, but there wasn't much he could do. About the only useful thing he did find was to check up on that soldier in the medical ward.  
  
When he came, he was denied the right to see Shesta until he had a check-up.  
  
"But, I just had three months ago," he said.  
  
The nurse ignored his protests. She was quite forceful about the whole thing.  
  
"We always check the Dragonslayers for injury whenever they walk in here. It's an unwritten rule."  
  
"....why?"  
  
She just smiled, and went about her work. It was also an unwritten rule that no one here talked about such things.  
  
When satisfied, the nurse allowed him passage to that space that had been, also unnofficially, given to the Dragonslayers. It was quiet, secluded, and dimly lit. The perfect space to gain some peace of mind.  
  
The doctor told him that everything was fine, and Shesta was back to normal. They were just allowing him a little extra re-couperation time, and were working to see if they couldn't get rid of a few of his remaining scars. His face was completely back to normal, but the rest of him...well, Dirandau was always cautious about any area that would show when in uniform, but the rest was fair game for permanent devastation.  
  
After talking to the doctor, Gatty had intended to leave, but Shesta begged for him to stay. Gatty would have protested to this as well, having now come to the conclusion that every single one of the Dragonslayers was going to hate him forever, but....he had nothing better to do. He may as well see what the young invalid wanted to tell him so badly.  
  
Shesta was sitting on a comfortable little bed, drinking that herbal tea which was offered at every turn in medical. He asked the nurse to get an extra one for Gatty, who looked a bit tired.  
  
"No, no. I'm perfectly fine," Gatty protested, one eyebrow raised in confusion. What the hell was this? All he ever knew of a prolonged stay at medical were irritated personnel and terrible food. This seemed like something out of those health spas from other countries.  
  
He pulled up a nearby stool and sat down.  
  
"So...uh...is there something you need put in your record? Or something of that nature?"  
  
Shesta shook his head 'no.'  
  
"I just wanted someone to talk to, is all."  
  
Gatty blinked. What the hell...?  
  
"....you do know that I'm the one who usurped Migueru, making your lord angry enough to run away and stay lost for about a month now, right?"  
  
Shesta nodded.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Uh...and you do recall that I was the officer in charge of you during restriction."  
  
"Yes, I do," he said with another nod. He was smiling, and seemed happy and amiable.  
  
Gatty was absolutely perplexed. When he could think of nothing else, he added, "You don't, by any chance, have some plan in effect in which these wonderful nurses are going to bound, gag, and torture me to death, do you?"  
  
Shesta burst out laughing, and shook his head 'no.' again.  
  
"No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Are they being very horrible to you?"  
  
"........."  
  
"Ah. I see. Don't worry. They'll come around. We Dragonslayers are a stubborn bunch, but we certainly don't ostracize good people forever.  
  
He took another sip of tea.  
  
"They just don't understand you. Keep trying, you'll make yourself understood."  
  
Gatty stared at Shesta, an incredulous puzzled smile on his face.  
  
"Then you must know what it feels like to be in my place. You weren't always a soldier?"  
  
"Actually, yes, I have always been a soldier. A little too ruthless at times, I'll admit. They tell me that I'm far too apt to kill people when it isn't necessary."  
  
Gatty blinked.  
  
"You...ruthless?"  
  
Shesta nodded.  
  
"I'll spar with you some time, and let you see for yourself."  
  
"Eheh...no thank you. I've had my fill of introductory sparring lessons for awhile."  
  
His wrists and back still hurt like hell from drill #4.  
  
Shesta continued to sip his tea, and Gatty continued to stare at him in puzzled wonder.  
  
"You...if you remember everything I've been up to, why do you care how I'm doing?"  
  
"Well, for one thing, you're here to stay, right? Lord Folken rarely if ever backs down on his decisions. I say we ought to all just get along with eachother. That way, we'll be better off as a group. More effective."  
  
Gatty smiled.  
  
"Well, now...finally there's someone here who thinks like me."  
  
"And for another thing, I don't...uh..." Shesta cut himself off, turning red in the face. "Never mind."  
  
"No, continue...what were you going to say?"  
  
Shesta put his cup down, and sighed.  
  
"Well...Dirandau...he...well, I know he's not one of the gods and everything. He's so wonderful. But he needs help...and he won't take it from anyone. And you, you're different. You've had a life of your own. You know..."  
  
He flushed slightly with embarrassment.  
  
"You know how to think for yourself, and your mind belongs solely to you. If there's anyone in this group who has actual advice to over Dirandau, it's you."  
  
"Ah...I see. So you don't think he's capable for this either?"  
  
"Oh, no! Don't ever think that! Of course I think he's capable. It's just...you've seen him, haven't you? Those looks he has on his face when he thinks no one's looking. The way he talks, the things he says. And, then there's...well, you haven't seen him at his worst yet. We all have faith in him because he is the best choice for this job. He just...."  
  
Shesta looked about ready to die. Trying to put these feelings into words was taxing his emotions. He gave up trying and began on a plea for Gatty's cooperation.  
  
"You'll just have to learn for yourself. Please...keep in mind that he really is a wonderful person. You just have to understand him more than those that don't know him personally to see that."  
  
Gatty leaned on his hand, staring at Shesta.  
  
"Do you care about everyone so much?"  
  
Shesta nodded.  
  
"Yes. I suppose I do. A little too much. Everyone says it's my worst weakness. I can't say as I disagree with them on that, but...I think understanding is helpful when living with people for long periods of time. And, anyway, everyone deserves a chance to be understood, don't they?"  
  
Gatty nodded in agreement.  
  
"You're a little odd, but I suppose you're right."  
  
He stood up.  
  
"I'd better get going now. I'll be sure to let the others know that you're fine."  
  
"Alright. I'll see you around then."  
  
Gatty started for the door.  
  
"Oh! Before you go.."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Just remember: We aren't crazy. We're just a little different."  
  
"Ehe...you know, I used to say the same thing about my team in the administrative department," Gatty said with a smile.  
  
He bid Shesta goodbye, and walked out.  
  
The nurse he had seen before looked sadly at him.  
  
"The poor dear...he's been so depressed lately. Thank you for that."  
  
"He seemed fairly happy to me."  
  
"Well, yes, he's happy now that he's had a chance to talk. I think he just needed to feel like his voice was being heard by someone in his own world. It seems like no one ever listens to him half the time."  
  
Gatty chuckled.  
  
"They don't seem the type to listen to reason, do they?"  
  
The nurse gave him a terrible look, incensed that he could joke so lightly about their situation.  
  
"Yes, well they don't have a lot of experience dealing with it."  
  
"I'll certainly attest to that. He's been here a month, and he's still got such terrible looking injuries?"  
  
"Actually, it's not as bad as it seems. And I'll bet that over half the ones you noticed were from previous encounters."  
  
"Previous encounters?"  
  
"Oh, my, yes! I've lost count of how many times that poor dear has been in to see me. And the others...well, if you ever take a good look at them without their battle dress on, you'll see. They've all pretty much got the same injuries."  
  
"That's detestable. Their loyalty to him...it's not only dangerous to their minds, but their health as well."  
  
She chose not to comment on that.  
  
"Before you leave, you mind telling me your favorite thing to drink?"  
  
Gatty gave her yet another look of confuzzlement.  
  
"I...uh...coffee."  
  
Coffee was his life force. To those who must stay awake for ungodly working hours, it was a holy relic.  
  
She smiled.  
  
"That's interesting. The others mostly say wine. Alright, I'll remember it when you come for a stay," she said, writing it down in a little green records book. She turned to go, but Gatty stopped her.  
  
"What do you mean, when I come for a stay?" he asked.  
  
She looked away from him.  
  
"I have to go. I have to go and take care of something..."  
  
But he refused to let her go.  
  
"I'm not going to be racked up her in a bed for weeks, lady. I will not be used as someone's release from anger," he said, a great deal of pride attached to his words.  
  
She smiled sadly.  
  
"Certainly, certainly. You'll be different. You won't get any scars."  
  
She gently tore her arm from his grasp. When she reached the door to the doctor's office, she turned and gave him one last look.  
  
"I'll be sure they start stocking coffee here as soon as we can. The good stuff, you know? We like you boys to be comfortable here. That's about all we can do to help."  
  
And she dashed inside before he could argue with her anymore.  
  
He walked out, shaking his head.  
  
"I will not end up like one of them. I refuse. My spirit is an iron rod, and will not be broken by the likes of him."   
  
After a month of hiding, Folken was about ready to give up. Perhaps Dirandau had run away. Had Folken really pushed him that far? Dirandau's loyalty was one which required him to be with his country, working for its ideals in order for him to have any measure of happiness. Could he possibly choose to live the life of one who has abandoned that?  
  
He thought, perhaps, that if they actually did find him again, it might be wise to be a little more lenient and compromise more often. After all, the decisions Folken made were for his own good, but he honestly couldn't comprehend that. A few changes in Dirandau's favor might help to ease his mind.  
  
And then, inexplicably, Dirandau just showed up again. Folken had walked to his office one day, only to find the young captain lounging in his chair, asleep.  
  
What followed that was the longest lecture in recorded Zaibach history. Folken knew of about 735 different ways to say how irresponsible this stunt was, and was fully intent on using all of them. Dirandau merely stood there, nodding silently.  
  
After he was through, Folken asked, "Do you have any questions?"  
  
"Yes," Dirandau responded. "Are you going to quit lying to me?"  
  
"I did not lie to you."  
  
"How dare you say that? You've lied to me at every turn, Folken. You lied when you said that you weren't really trying to control every aspect of my life. You lied when you said you would not give me any difficulty about my choices in chain of command. You lied when you said I was getting out of this damned fucking training center. And you lie every time you try to say that you give a damn about anything I think."  
  
Each of his words was said in a calm and sensible manner. He had obviously been thinking a long time of some way to get Folken to quit screwing around with him.  
  
Folken, however, did not care to let Dirandau win in any occasion.  
  
"I have never lied to you. Everything I have ever told you is true, in some way or another. You misunderstand a great many things, Dirandau. You always have. That leaves you to become confused easily, and thus, frustrated. It is your own faults that are in the way, not mine.  
  
Folken expected Dirandau to begin ranting, or screaming, or something of that nature. But his next action was perplexingly different.  
  
"Very well," Dirandau replied, that calmness and sensiblity still maintained. Without another word, he started for the door.  
  
"Where are you going?" inquired Folken.  
  
"To my quarters. Where I intend to sit for the rest of the day. Good day, Lord Folken."  
  
"Now you're actually informing me of the fact that you're going off to sulk somewhere? That's highly unusual."  
  
Dirandau stopped where he was and turned around, still calm.  
  
"Folken, you're a cold hearted jackass. I don't know who or what you really are. I don't know what your purposes are in meddling with my affairs. I don't know what you think of me beyond what you add to our useless banter. I don't know why you're always trying to prove me wrong and take things away from me when I've earned them or when you have no right to do so. I don't know why you won't let me go. And, now, with all other possibilities exhausted, I don't know what to do...."  
  
Having reached a standstill in his thoughts, his words trailed off.  
  
"I bid you good day, Lord Folken."  
  
And with that he walked off.  
  
Folken was dumbfounded by that display of civility and rational thinking. His instincts told him that this was some kind of trick, but from all appearances he couldn't say that he trusted those instincts this time. He half-trusted that perhaps Dirandau had grown up a little more in his self-appropriated 'vacation.' The other half of him, however, trusted that this was all just some ploy, knowing full well Dirandau never said anything he meant truthfully.  
  
"What are you planning, Dirandau?" he thought allowed. "What should I expect?"  
  
{{hehe...okay...this is sort of ending in the middle of nowhere.  
  
^_^  
  
I like it that way.  
  
You'll have to excuse my treatment of Gatty in recent fics. It seems I've become well-taken with "Gatty-torture." Needless to say, these next chapters are not going to be happy ones for our overworked young man.  
  
[And some of you happen to know -why- I'm so taken with Gatty-torture lately.]  
  
Next chapter should be fun.  
  
Dilly and the DSlayers are pretty much all together as a group this time, instead of off on restriction or unauthorized status.  
  
I think either in the next chapter or the one after that, I get to my explanation as to why he wears the infamous tiara. ^_^ I'm very silly about the whole thing, so please forgive me.  
  
They are also getting their guymelefs soon [They don't have them yet. Poor little guys without toys.]. And they will actually get to be in a real fight. Yay!  
  
::Pouts at the lack of reviews, and refuses to comment anymore upon it.::}} 


	10. Chapter 9

[[I haven't updated in a long time.

I have been suffering life-altering events, otherwise known as research for my writing. I hope you enjoy this work.]]

"Ssst! Hey! Over on!"

They'd rather have used silent signals to call to eachother. It made things easier. But stealthing around in the dark in a group that was split up did not work without words. If only they had personal communications systems...

The group duck-walked their way over to the voice.

"Look at this! Must be meant for the generals! Heh...then again, you get this stuff normally, right?"

A slap was heard in the dark, and the voice decided to be a little less sarcastic.

The boxed food items, mostly fresh fruit and rare pastries [Rare for the fact that they weren't stale], were passed around to the waiting hands.

Another of the voices ordered them to move out. The covert operation was almost completed, and not a single problem had aroused.

Why does luck never hold?

The first one reached the door, and looked to see if it were safe to leave. Before his head had finished turning to the right, a pair of hands had grabbed him. It was a large, rather burly man.

"I had a feeling that we were going to have an infestation in the kitchen tonight."

The others froze where they were. Caught!

"All right, you little rats! Get out here now! Make me come find you, and your leaders will only recognize you by your dogtags!"

Lucky for the stealth raiders, there were four entrances to the kitchens. They split up and headed for the other three.

As they left, the frightened sounds of their captured compatriot could be heard. One of the raiders paused, feeling guilt at leaving him behind. He might be executed for this, for all they know.

"Come on! You of all people should be the least bit inclined to go back there and help him," another said, trying to spur him on.

No. He knew what loyalty meant. Be loyal to your brothers. And all soldiers in this country, no matter what markings they wore, were brothers.

Besides, he had nothing important to lose.

He dropped his items, and ran to the burly man. He managed to free the captured boy, but only at the cost of his own freedom.

"You have nothing to say," Dirandau said coldly.

Truth be told, Migueru had plenty to say. He wanted to protest. He had never spoken out against anyone above him to their face without support of another, but this time he wanted to. He wanted to tell his captain - his friend - how wrong this treatment was. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. He was in a state of hell.

"You have nothing to say, because I won't let you say it. I won't let you explain away your betrayal. Why were you so kind to me before? Because you thought it would get you something?" Dirandau asked, his words full of hurt.

"No, sir."

"Then why is it that, after such good and loyal service, you turn on me the moment you lose rank?"

"I am frustrated with the situation, sir."

Dirandau glared at him and struck him to the ground.

"As if I'm not? I didn't want this either. I fought for you, Migueru. I fought for you so that this wouldn't happen. It wasn't my doing. I didn't hurt you, so why are you betraying me?"

"I..I didn't betray you...."

"You embarrassed me...and you hurt the team. You stole something. You dishonorably took something that wasn't yours. Worse, it belonged to higher ranking officers. How can they trust a bunch of petty thieves to work for them? You wear a blue uniform, part of a matching set of 14. They all look alike. They stand for high quality and dedication to service...until someone screws up. Then they are merely clothes worn by lowlife ruffians. And they will mean nothing more than that if we continue like this."

Migueru stood back up, and stared ahead. He was stubborn. When he didn't believe in something, it showed. He was passionate and loud. Much like Dirandau.

"As I recall, sir," he said slowly, "it won't ever matter how anyone holds the Dragonslayers in their opinions, as there is no way in hell your men are ever going to be commissioned to do any actual work. Because Folken doesn't want them to."

The words were meant to cut, and they did their job well. Dirandau took one of his gloves off, and clamped his mouth down on it. He feared breaking his teeth otherwise.

Lately, he had been thinking half-seriously about really kicking Migueru out. But, then...oh, how happy that would make Folken! To know that he had succeeded in driving the two of them completely apart.

"Migueru, you-"

At that moment there was a knock on the door. Dirandau's gaze shifted towards the door in a surreal manner. He did not like being interrupted when he was so angry. That always meant he'd have to put on a face of propriety.

"....yes? Who is it?" Dirandau asked.

"Gatty, sir. I have a pressing matter to discuss with you."

Dirandau's face scrunched up. He let out a raw growl.

"Damn it, when I ask you a question, you will answer what I have asked you and only that! I did not ask you why you were here!!"

Gatty grit his teeth.

"Sir, I apologize, sir."

Dirandau rapped his fingers against the desk for a few minutes, deep in angst-filled thought.

Dirandau put his glove back on, took a deep breath, and calmed himself.

"Your point is well taken, Migueru."

He wrote something on a paper, and then stood up. He approached Migueru, glaring at him ominously.

"But you know as well as everyone else that I don't care what situation we're in. We will do things correctly, as they should be done. You are what you are. You are what we tell you, and you will meet any expectations set before you. Understood?"

"....yes, sir."

"I have counted you as a good friend, Migueru. Why you have decided to make me change that, I'll never know. But there is no changing it now. You have stepped too far in the wrong direction."

"Wait! If you'll just-"

"Silence. You wish to be treated in the manner you act. I will treat you no different than you deserve. And you don't deserve my respect anymore."

What Migueru lost at that moment was far worse than anything Folken could have taken away from him.

"From now on, your job is to redeem yourself from your past failures, as a soldier and a man. You will spend every waking moment devising new ways to help Gatty excell at -his- job."

"Sir, please...I...Dirandau, please don't ask me to..."

But Dirandau was relentless.

"Don't you ever dare to ask for pity from me again, Migueru. You lost the job, got that? YOU. I didn't think so, but it's obvious now. You don't care about me, and you don't care about your duties. You have abandoned both. And that was obvious to others. I suppose I didn't notice, because I wanted to think I could have at least one person to stand by me through anything..."

He sounded cold and jaded, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings. He was not angry as a leader. He was hurt as a friend.

"You are incapable of carrying out the position of second in command. That job requires absolute loyalty. I can't trust you, and so I can't trust anyone. So I may as well take anyone else who comes along. It doesn't matter who, because they're all the same. And I can't stand to work with you. Understood?"

Luckily for Migueru, Dirandau wasn't wanting or waiting for a response to the question. Migueru understood the situation too well, and it would have killed him to admit it.

"Let me make this clear. I can neither trust you, nor can I depend on you for anything. I can never do that. Never."

This all seemed like some kind of nightmare. It couldn't be real. Or maybe it would all end if Dirandau thought that Migueru understood how hurt he was, and that Migueru was broken up about it. He broke from his status of attention.

"Dirandau...I...I can't live like this."

It was a plea. In most respects, it was a plea for forgiveness. But deep down, it was a plea for Dirandau to employ his skills as an executioner. Life was too hard, and they had barely begun. Migueru didn't want it anymore if he had to give up the relationship that was helping him endure it.

Dirandau stared him dead in the eyes.

"You have a sword. If you can't live this way, then take care of the problem yourself."

Dirandau held his arm out towards the door.

"You are dismissed."

He waited a moment for the Migueru to leave. But Migueru was far too distraught. He kept thinking that somehow this was not happening.

"Go!!!"

Gatty heard a dull thud against the door, which momentarily opened and allowed Migueru passage through it.

'What do you do with your free time?'

Migueru was once asked that during a survey. It took him a long time to think of an answer. After all, he didn't see free time very often.

"I drink," he had replied.

"Is that all?" questioned the surveyor. "What do you do after that?"

"I drink more."

The surveyor hadn't been the least bit unnerved. Every last one of these people, from age 3 to 60, was a drunkard.

He held a bottle of alcohol, and leaned his head against one of his shoulders. He had been sitting there for three days now.

This was the standard mode of behavior for the useless.

His life was officially over.

"Hey, you!" a voice called from the hall. "Get out here. I need your help with some scheduling."

Migueru snarled at the voice.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I left notes for you in the office!"

"Yes, but you forgot to leave a translation for your handwriting. I'm an administrator, not a code breaker."

"Grrrrraaaah!!!"

Migueru placed his bottle gently on the ground, not wanting to break something containing so precious a supplement as alcohol. He then ran after that idiot, intending to give him the beating of a lifetime....and instead receiving it.

The two sat in the office later, across the room from eachother. They stared, hoping to figure out something of the other by just looking.

"Have you got a clue what you're doing?" Migueru asked.

"A clue? I've got the whole map. You just made some smudges on it, that's all."

Migueru's eyes twitched and fluttered as they rolled to the back of his head.

"I can't believe he's got you fucking around with my paperwork. I take it you're not going to leave this place the way I keep it."

Gatty smiled.

"Of course not," he said. "I couldn't do that and be efficient, now could I?"

Migueru glared at the floor. He wasn't that bad at his job. He didn't deserve this! He'd lost his pride and his good relationship with Dilandau. Now some weeping, wailing admin clerk was going to come into his office, change things around that didn't need to be changed, and be praised for improving the Dragonslayers program. Migueru would be forgotten, or hated if he was remembered.

Pushing all that aside, he began a proper turnover of the job for Gatty. He told him everything he knew, showed him where everything was. He made sure there was no possible way Gatty could screw up on the job. He asked if Gatty understood completely, and Gatty replied with a yes.

"Perfect," Migueru thought, smirking. "Now that you know the job, lets see if you can handle it under pressure..."

It was nearing a special time. At this time each day, Dirandau would come in and ask for some important reports on the progress of their training.

Dirandau walked into the room holding the same commanding presence he always held.

"Sir," Migueru broke in before Dirandau could say anything. "I have finished the office passdown of Dragonslayer Second."

"Very well," said Dirandau in reply.

"Do you understand everything that goes on in this office?"

"Yes, sir," replied Gatty, a new bit of confidence having been instilled in him.

Dirandau's eyes narrowed.

"You understand everything...?"

"Yes, sir," Gatty replied again, his new confidence now a bit tattered.

"Then why do you not have the papers I need already in your hand?"

Gatty hesitated. "What papers, sir?"

Miguel had neglected to mention the Dragonslayer's training schedule, which was posted in the training hall. Had he done that, Gatty would have gone there to see what was happening.

Miguel had also neglected to mention what paperwork is needed for different types of training.

And now he neglected to do anything but enjoy his handiwork.

Every muscle in Dirandau's body stiffened. He had a slacker on his hands? This man wasn't going to learn his job properly, and tell Dirandau that everything was going fine when it was falling apart?

"I don't think so," he thought.

Gatty received a short lecture, after which Dirandau went to Folken's quarters to attempt Gatty's removal once again. When Dirandau was gone, Gatty began a discussion with Migueru.

"What was that all about?" Gatty asked.

Migueru lifted his eyes to the ceiling, attempting to mask a smirk.

"I did the turn-over. By rights, you should be able to figure it out yourself."

"You didn't tell me everything, you bastard! Damn you. You led me on, and now I've got an even worse reputation with him. Can't you get over yourself for a moment?"

"No," Migueru replied as he headed out the door to resume his previous activity.

Gatty rushed at Migueru, thoroughly fed up with his actions and his attitude. He forced Migueru to the ground, and gave him a decent beating. He then left for an area of social gathering. Dirandau had said he didn't want to see Gatty there when he got back, so he figured he might as well go somewhere he liked.

Migueru pretended to be half-dead from the punishment. As soon as Gatty turned a corner, Migueru hopped up and followed him.

The place Gatty had gone was known as the corners, thus named because it was at the intersection of multiple corridors. It had been made spacious, so as to allow ample opportunity for passage in times of emergency. There was no furniture to speak of, nor . Mostly, people lounged about the floor or leaned against walls. They made friendships, wasted time, and, most importantly, vented a good deal of their permanent frustration.

Gatty sat down in a corner space and began to re-read one of those sword-fighting manuals he'd studied. He intended to correct every damned error in there, and turn it over to the proper authorities. It wasn't right that such a thing be around to delude the unknowledgeable.

After he got through the first chapter, he looked up to find himself in a good deal of company. Some of his old acquaintances had noticed him and gathered round him. He stared at them, words unavailable.

"Well, well...looks like you didn't get killed by the paperwork you bury yourself in, after all."

Gatty smiled a bit.

"No, no. I've been transferred to another group. We're always busy..."

He looked nervously at one of them. A young girl he didn't know. Her stares made him uncomfortable. The others continued their banter, unaware of his discomfort.

"That's an interesting uniform you've got there," said one.

Another chuckled. "Yeah. We almost mistook you for a soldier!"

That one shook his head. They all disliked soldiers, and had respect for Gatty. They wouldn't want him to be one.

"Oh...eh...yeah....heh..."

His friends continued to talk in their usual manner. They were all sardonic and bitter. Their love of irony kept them in good spirits and mental health.

They were so focused they didn't even notice the girl walk up to Gatty and sit down. She began whispering in his ear. After he looked over at her, shocked at a proposition, she pulled him towards her and kissed him full on the lips.

Gatty blushed a deep red, and his friends' topic of discussion now turned to Gatty's present romantic affairs. They giggled and laughed as this strange girl snuggled up close to a surprise-stricken Gatty, who whispered obscene things to him to see what kind of faces he'd make. She thought he was adorable. He thought she was insane.

But then, sometimes the insane are lovable. After a time, he began to smile at her.

There was much giggling as the two flirted back and forth. It was a fun little game, one Gatty was not unknown to play. The girl eventually got up and began running towards a passageway entrance. Gatty chased after her. She crashed into someone who was standing in her way, which caused Gatty to stop abruptly and fall backwards.

The stranger looked down at Gatty, a very angry look upon his face. They knew eachother...

"H..hi...." Gatty's words were awkward. What could he possibly say?

The stranger continued to stare at him in silence, hurt and angry. Gatty stood up.

"Look, I...um.."

He smiled.

"How have you been?" he asked with an amiable tone.

The stranger turned away with a despairing "Hmph." Gatty cringed. This was delicate..how to handle it?

"Listen, I know you loved me..."

The stranger was near in tears.

"I lo...I thought I loved you too. I just..it woudln't have worked out. We grew apart..."

The stranger turned back on him, a very angry look on his face.

"You grew apart from me! You..you have no feelings, do you? You don't care about anyone, you just go about your way, finding people to devour as you go. I..."

The stranger wanted to say that he hated Gatty, but he didn't.

"I just...I just wanted a proper goodbye. That's all..."

The stranger pushed Gatty up against a wall, and gave him a kiss to be remembered. When the stranger left him, Gatty had a very satisfied drunken look on his face. Oh, how he had needed something like that!

he walked in the direction of that strange girl, hoping to find her later. He brushed past someone. In his absent-minded state, he didn't recall who it was, and merely apologized while continuing on his way.

The forgotten figure smiled broadly.

"Heh....heheh....heheheheeh....!"

Migueru couldn't help laughing. The forgotten are not powerless, after all.

[[[Okay, I don't really feel like talking much about me right now, but here's the situation.

I've had loads of personal trials and am just now getting over them.

I had lost internet connection for quite some time (seems like a year.)

I was going to give up on this fic, because I felt I couldn't get back into the spirit of it.

But, I persevered and here it is.

(Hehe...perhps that will make the fact taht this chapter is so short be less important...)

I don't really think I'll update "Inconvenient Situation" much to some readers dismay.

It feels like a good ending to me [and if you were to ever experience something like that, you wouldn't be so inclined to relive it so often.]

I'm starting up a new fic which should be finished soon (Don't believe me about my timeframes. Let experience be your guide.)

It doesn't have a name yet, but it will be about Folken's experiences in Zaibach, starting from the first few days he gets there.

I've been delving a lot into Folken's character, so I felt I should do this. I haven't read much of Folken fanfic [I may try, but as it is, I am using all my sleeping time to do things for my own edification and replenishment, and it gets too difficult to try much...]]]

Okay. Until later, thanks for the kind reviews.]]


	11. Chapter 10

(((Finally, I have finished another chapter of this lovely story. You might be pleased with it, you might not. But at least now it exists. It's been sitting on my desk top for awhile now, so I decided to finish it. (I've got a few chapters of fics just sitting there like that. I really ought to try to finish them all, but I'm...uh....I don't know how to explain how my mental state has been.)

This storyline will end soon. Dirandau is getting very near the age he was in the series, and is going to begin going to actual battles. Therefore, there won't be much more for me to write.

Summary of the end of the last chapter:

It has been brought to my attention to the last bit of the previous chapter was confusing. I will now write out what happened and send with this my apologies for not making things clear.

Gatty had sat down in a spacious area that was frequented by young workers of the Zaibach government to study. His old friends came by. Some girl saw him, thought she was cute, and proceeded to flirt with him. After that, an old boyfriend of Gatty's came up to talk to him. Gatty had decided a long time ago not to talk to that boy anymore because he needed to concentrate on his work. Romance just wasn't on the menu. Well, the boy wasn't exactly happy with the turn of events, so he waited for a chance to meet with Gatty once more and slap him goodbye. Miguel had been watching all this from the edge of one of the corridors. After his encounter with his ex, he decided to go pursue that girl, who had, by now, run away. He brushed past Miguel on his way out of the corners without realizing it.

I apologize to anyone who was confused, especially those that thought it was Miguel that kissed Gatty. That would have to be one of the more traumatizing and confusing images, I think.

Alright, enough talk! On to the violence-filled goodness!)))

"I am certain of what I have seen, sir," repeated Migueru. He was calm and respectful. He had every intention of reconstructing his image. Dirandau would be very angry about this, angry at Gatty. There was no need to bringing bring about excess anger by doing little things that annoyed Dirandau.  
Dirandau seethed with anger.  
"He is disgracing me!" Dirandau exclaimed. "The bastard could have at least changed out of his uniform!"  
Dirandau had little doubt that the uniform would be recognized.  
"Where is he now?"  
"I do not know, sir. He ran off after the girl, and that is the last I saw of him."  
Dirandau growled.  
"You didn't go after him?!" he cried.  
Dirandau pushed Migueru against a wall, the crook of his hand pressed securely across Migueru's throat.  
"S..sir...I wanted to inform you first for the sake of efficiency. I thought that you might want to tell Lord Folken immediately, so that you could get rid of him."  
"You dare to assume how I might think?"  
"No, sir!"  
Dirandau slapped him across the face. Folken had taught him how to as an alternative to Dirandau's usual methods, which often resulted in more injury than necessary. This, Folken thought, was a perfect solution. It would inflict pain while leaving Dirandau's men intact.  
After Dirandau left to visit Folken, Migueru sat on the floor leaning, his knees pulled up to his chest. He had a hand clasped against his face.  
"Why did he have to pick up -that- habit?"  
Migueru disliked being slapped very much. He didn't mind other sorts of injury, which left marks as reasoning for feeling hurt. But a slap left nothing lasting. A handprint that would fade momentarily. One had best forget that it happened, because one had no proof of it ever occurring. Forgetting things. Such a skill that was; necessary and rivaled by no other. He hoped that Dirandau would pick up a different habit in time.

Dirandau felt restrained from breathing. If he didn't breathe he wouldn't scream, and thus wouldn't make the situation worse. Whenever he manifested signs of his anger, Folken would do whatever little things he could to ensure that Dirandau would be annoyed all the more. Dirandau would be so blinded by his anger that he couldn't think straight, and would often lose against this man so lacking in emotion.

"You are not to expel Gatty from the Dragonslayers. It is far too important that you have a good second, and even your ego, fragile and demanding as it is, is must be placed secondary to that. I will hear no more of this."  
"You weren't listening in the first place," Dirandau hissed.  
"I listen to everything you say, Dirandau. Much as I dislike it, I do listen."  
"He broke the rules! How can I maintain order when my men disobey my rules and I can't do anything to them?"  
"That rule isn't important."  
"It is! Damn you...You're going to change the policies I make as well? Why don't you just take my fucking uniform and run the program officially? I'm so sick of you disrupting everything I try to do. Why don't you just let me do things the way I want to do them? I'm not incompetent."  
"It isn't that you are incompetent. You are simply inexperienced."  
"How am I supposed to get any experience if you prevent me from doing anything?"  
"You will gain experience in time."  
"I can't wait that long."  
"You have to."  
"I can't!"  
"Obviously you can, as you have been doing this for quite some time now."  
Dirandau was infuriated beyond his self-control. He unsheathed his sword and took a ready stance. There were no thoughts behind his actions, only feelings.  
Folken sighed.  
"Put the sword down," he said with a bored tone in his voice. He wished that Dirandau would quit these stupid games and rash decisions. "You know that you're just going to get hurt."  
Dirandau responded by brandishing the sword, making a few graceful strokes. Just showing off. He was better than he had been the first time Folken had met him. He improved every day. He was expected to be the perfect killer, and wasn't likely to let anyone down in that field.  
"You have one more warning, Dirandau. Cease what you are doing and sit down."  
Dirandau stepped back into his ready stance and edged towards Folken, taunting him. A wonderful grin flashed across his face.  
"You are intent on receiving pain today, then?"  
Dirandau snapped his teeth together, a sign of aggression. Folken drew his own sword.  
"Where'd you get that?" Dirandau asked, laughing. Folken with a sword...what the hell was that about? Folken couldn't fight! Folken didn't do anything, except play games with the power that he obviously must have stolen from someone more worthy.  
Folken raised the sword above his head and brought it down slowly, his eyes closed. A slight bit of meditation before a battle. It always seemed to help.  
Dirandau ran at Folken, sword raised high above his head. This stance, while it allowed for the best sort of attack, left little to no chance for defending oneself. Not counting on Folken's ability to fight which he might have done had he taken the time to think about the situation, Dirandau assumed that this would be the best attack. He would be able to dispose of Folken quickly and without much chance for Folken to retaliate.  
Folken stood waiting. Swordfighting was not so much about strength as it was about precision and thoughtful action. Mastery and control of the emotions was a necessary skill, one he had mastered and Dirandau would most likely never even attempt. That was Dirandau's failing and the reason he would lose today.  
Dirandau's first stroke was easily deflected. Dirandau had controlled the amount of power in that blow, so that he was able to pull back and try another stroke immediately. Folken deflected that movement easily, using the strength of it to force Dirandau's sword from his hand. Once disarmed, Folken clasped Dirandau's arm and pulled him closer. He wrapped his arm around Dirandau's neck in a chokehold. Dirandau kicked and fought but he was never able to break free from one of Folken's holds.  
"Do you want me to snap your neck?" Folken asked.  
Dirandau became frightened. There were two things that he hated thinking about: losing his men and losing his life.  
"Quit it," said Dirandau. "You kill me, you get in trouble."  
"Not likely," Folken said as he released Dirandau.  
"Dirandau, you can not get rid of him. I don't care how much you want to. He hasn't done anything illegal."  
"He has broken my rules."  
"Are we to repeat these events again?"  
"How can I command my men effectively without my rules? He was warned, and he disobeyed."  
"And if I asked him whether he had been warned or not, would you be worried?"  
"No. I would simply ask why you have to question everything that I do."  
"Because everything you do is so questionable."  
Dirandau's eyes rolled to the back of his head.  
"Look, if you're not going to let me get rid of him, why don't you at least let me punish him? He'll live and be wiser for it."  
"You are too prone to cause excessive damage, due to your lack of restraint."  
"Damnit! You can't just force me to do nothing! Everyone knows that a leader is supposed to discipline his followers when they step out of line. That is a major part of this army's structure. You break tradition."  
"Some traditions should be broken, then."  
"Damned foreign traitor! You jealous or something? You want to sabotage Zaibach's way of life?"  
"I am sabotaging nothing. I simply see something wrong and work to fix it."  
Folken, it seemed to Dirandau, would never admit his true intentions. Dirandau couldn't fight against him, as he had some strange unseen power.  
Dirandau backed away slowly from him.  
"Fine," he huffed. "You know what? Forget this. I'll just kill myself and see what comes of that!"  
Folken massaged his forehead. It never ended with Dirandau.  
"You truly wish to die?"  
Dirandau didn't answer. He unsheathed his sword and removed his gloves.  
"You do realize, of course, that if you die, you can't do anything even if the situation does improve."  
Dirandau removed his jacket as well. His left hand graced the right wrist as he tried to decide where the most opportune cut could be made.  
"Dirandau, quit it. I know you're doing this just to get a reaction."  
Dirandau held the sword against his wrist, looking something like a violinist preparing to play a piece. He smirked at Folken.  
Folken's eyes narrowed. The next person that told him Zaibach soldiers were obedient to a fault was going to get a lovely lecture. A lovely, lengthy lecture, with tons of examples to cite.  
"Cease what you are doing or I will not hesitate to send you to therapy for the next six months."  
"First tell me what I have to live for, then I'll stop."  
"You have your duty."  
"Which you won't let me perform. Next reason."  
"I'm not playing games with you."  
"Neither am I!" Dirandau screamed. Was there no limit to how aggravating Folken could be? "Either let me do my job or leave me alone."  
"You can't do your job on your own and there is no reason to keep pretending you can."  
Dirandau ceased to breathe for a moment.  
"So you finally admit it?" he asked when he finally began to breathe again.  
"You are irrational and need to gain some measure of discipline. As it stands, no, you can not do this job on your own."  
"Fine."  
Dirandau took one quick swipe across his arm with the sword. Upon realizing how painful this action actually was, Dirandau dropped the sword and gripped his arm. What the hell had he done?!  
Folken was surprised that Dirandau had actually done what he promised to. Dirandau was becoming increasingly recklass reckless.  
"Come here and let me take a look at that," Folken said.  
Dirandau backed away from him. He moved his arm so that he could get a look at it. The blood was flowing quite freely. He could see where the skin split and it horrified him. He'd never been cut before, as far as he knew. His arm slowly became numb. After a moment or two, he screamed.  
Folken tried to get a look at the arm but Dirandau refused to let him.

As soon as Dirandau became weak enough, Folken carried him to medical. He was attended to by the sorcerers, who were none too pleased with the results of Dirandau's latest bout of dramatics. They had worked far too hard on him to have something like this happen. They accused Folken of being negligent.

"If this keeps up, we're going to put you on report," one of them said.  
"That's a little harsh, isn't it? You can't hold me solely responsible for his behavior. He does have a mind of his own, if you failed to notice."  
"He never showed signs of suicidalism before."  
"Well, people do change."  
"That's obvious," said one, remarking with a hint of sarcasm upon Folken's choice to leave. Folken was not amused.  
"This is not my failing, it is yours. You have failed to equip him with what he needs to comprehend the world around him. As it stands, he can't even deal with his own men. He's likely to kill them if left unsupervised. What's more, he is miserable."  
"We didn't create his personality. That came about of its own accord."  
"I suppose you are responsible for nothing in regards to his way of thinking?" Folken asked with an incredulous look on his face.  
The sorcerers cared little for being questioned by Folken.  
"If you wanted to know, you should have stayed with us," the sorcerer coldly replied. "Leave. We have no further business with you. The boy will be sent back when he is well enough. If there are any further incidents, you will be held responsible."  
"I will not be punished for your mistakes," Folken said as he walked away.

When Dirandau came back he had no recollection of what had happened, as usual. Amnesia was a wonderful tool for the sorcerers. They knew it could not last, however. Its ability to effect results would cease to work in time. But for now, it made life a whole lot easier. 

Dirandau was summoned into Folken's quarters. He was quite fired up and ready to scream at Folken about how things needed to change. This made Folken's words even more surprising.  
"W..w.hat..?"  
"You are to ready yourself for battle immediately. You are needed in resolving a matter with Kosukei immediately. One of their leaders has come across some very important information and refuses to cooperate with us by keeping his silence. The call is for total subjugation. Is that understood?"  
Dirandau nodded, smiling as widely as he could. Battle! At last! His smile faded momentarily.  
"And what about Gatty? I'm not going to use him as my second for this! He-"  
"You are required to keep him as your second for the battle. After that, I will allow you to punish him. All I ask is that you do not permanently disable or kill him. Is that understood?"  
Dirandau's smile came back. Things were finally looking up for him. He didn't wait for any more instructions or words of wisdom. He ran out of there quickly to tell his men to ready themselves. They would all have a wonderful celebration after this.  
Folken readied the paperwork, immensely pissed off. This would be a fiasco, one which he wanted nothing to do with. He would not have allowed Dirandau to go, but the sorcerers had forced his hand. If Dirandau were to become insane, Folken would be blamed for it unless he could find some other immediate and probable cause.  
Kosukei wasn't even that much of a problem. The only reason the Dragonslayers were being sent to attack it was that it was small and out of the way. No one would notice, and thus it would be a good test run for them.  
Folken kept to the paperwork, repeating to himself that this would be an utter disaster. If it was, then maybe they would listen to him.

The Dragonslayers stood at attention, excited as much as Dirandau. Dirandau was not overcome by his excitement, however. He would have this mission succeed without fault.

"This is what I've been working towards for years. I will not have any mistakes, understood?"  
Cripes, that's all he needed! For one of them to screw up and then have Folken refuse to let them do anything ever again. What a waste that would be!  
"Yes, sir!" they all cried in unison.  
Dirandau walked over to Gatty.  
"And you had best be better than anyone else when we get out there. I'm not going to tolerate any less from you."  
"Yes, sir!" replied Gatty. Gatty had been working very hard at becoming a decent fighter. He was rather good at it. He could become good at anything when he set his mind to it. He hoped that this battle would give him the chance to prove himself and win Dirandau's trust.  
"Everyone stand by to prepare for battle," Dirandau said, addressing the group as a whole. He then ordered Gatty to come with him to await further orders from Folken.

The Dragonslayers were transferred to the ship Vione, which housed an excellent guymelef hangar. It was state of the art. There were, in fact, only two things which could be complained about here. These were the heating system and the food.

Advanced as they were, comfort was an often neglected issue in Zaibach. To waste fuel on heat in such a place as this would have been ludicrous. Zaibach, much like its dear leader Emperor Dornkirk, could not survive without the machines that sustained them. Life-support. They should have died out a long time ago, but their technology kept them alive. For what purpose, one must wonder. At times, there seemed to be none. Everyone was so miserable so often, always going without, always sacrificing. One had to wonder whether or not a person sacrificing his own life was done out of love or selfishness.

The attack began with perfect coordination. The guymelefs, which had been checked over in a most scrupulous and unforgiving manner, were now ready to perform their function. A more perfect battle Dirandau would never fight. It took a total of half an hour to lay waste to Kosukei and defeat its little army. There would certainly be no living with Dirandau after this. Now perfectly convinced of the abilities of himself and his men, he felt it impossible for Folken to stand in their way.  
Some assumed that when they got back, Dirandau would praise them. After all, if they had done so well, they deserved to be reminded of it. However, the first thing that Dirandau did when they hopped out of their guymelefs was to berate them for all the mistakes he saw.  
"You'd think I hadn't trained any of you...." Dirandau said, his dissapointed air cutting deeply into the Dragonslayer's hearts. They vowed not to dissapoint him the next time.  
"You will all report to the training hall. As soon as the reports are finished, we will have a training session. We're not wasting any more time. You're all being so pathetic that we can't afford it. Go."

All of the Dragonslayers except for Gatty took off running for the training hall. They were exhausted but they knew that Dirandau wouldn't tolerate them slacking now. They discussed things amongst themselves once they arrived.  
"Hey, Shes, why don't you go and get something for us to eat?" asked Guimel. Shesta was so good at sneaking around quickly that they figured he'd be able to do it before the galley closed. And he never did seem to get in much trouble by Dirandau.  
"What? No!" Shesta was getting tired of these sorts of requests. He might not be on the up-and-up all the time, but he wasn't a criminal. He was becoming more withdrawn from the others. He almost seemed to lead a double life. Ever since Miguel had fallen from Dirandau's grace, Shesta had been taken into Dirandau's company a lot more. The two would often have talks behind closed doors and in silent empty corridors. One just had to wonder what they talked about.  
"...fine...be useless!" yelled Guimel. Some of the others decided to ignore Shesta after that. Shesta rolled his eyes.  
"Oh, come off it! Why don't you bother Miguel about this? He's proven himself to be so -good- at stealing food, after all."  
Miguel glowered at Shesta. He'd had quite enough of all this being piled about him. He didn't need to hear it from someone like that, just to make fun. He ran at Shesta and the two began clawing eachother. 

"Wait a minute!" Dalet yelled, trying to get some sense of order in this place. "Lord Dirandau is upset with us because we dissapointed him with mediocre fighting skills. If you're going to fight, why don't you do it properly?" He tossed two practice swords at Shesta and Miguel. The two let go of eachother, took up the sword and a ready stance. They began their fight. Soon the rest of the Dragonslayers began sparring and they looked the professional group that Dirandau intended them to be.

Dirandau kept Gatty with him. As Gatty was his second, he would be the one to give the reports to Lord folken.  
"Alright, let's get straight what you will report to him," Dirandau said. He wouldn't have Folken getting a bad report. He had too much to lose.  
".....Sir....I thought I was to report to him the events that actually happened..."  
"You are. And lucky for you, you have me to tell you what happened."  
Gatty stared at Dirandau, eyes narrowed. Dirandau expected him to lie about this? He was struck by how low Dirandau's behavior was.  
"I will only report what I have observed, sir."  
"Of course, of course. But you don't have to report everything."  
"Sir, I am honor bound to report everything."  
"Fuck you and your sense of 'honor.' You don't know anything about it and thus, you have none."  
"Sir, I know more about it than you do!" Gatty was being very bold about this. Dirandau circled him, growling at him.  
"You're going to tell him exactly what I order you to tell him." Dirandau would have hit him then, but he had to wait until after the reports were done to punish him.  
Gatty stared at Dirandau, who was now fiddling with a tiara he'd taken during the battle. Gatty blinked.  
"Sir, where did you get that?"  
"Don't question me."  
"Sir, all items of value obtained on the battlefield must be turned over to the proper authorities."  
"I know that. I am the 'proper authority.' I properly killed that idiot royal and now I have the authority to keep this."  
"Sir, I must report this to Lord Folken."  
"You do that. You tell him every damned fucking thing you want to. And when you do, I want you to keep in mind what you have waiting for you." Dirandau paused as he slipped the tiara on his head.  
"Folken has decided to deny you any further protection. I don't know or care why. The point is I get to do exactly what I like with you."  
That wasn't quite true. He wanted to kill Gatty but this still would not be allowed. Dirandau began circling Gatty now.  
"You will not sleep again until I decide that you are allowed to. During this time, you will train until you drop. When you drop, you will be beaten, thrashed and otherwised maimed until I see fit to stop, after which one of my men, your 'comrades,' will take over and continue. You'll eat once a day, if that. After this is over, you will be weak, exhausted and most likely have broken limbs. You will be given the appropriate time to heal, after which you will return to your duties and execute them flawlessly. I do not want you here, but you are. You are mine. You belong solely to me and I always keep perfect care of my toys. Do you understand all this, Gatty?"  
"Yes, sir. I understand perfectly."  
Ugh....how horrid this was going to be!  
Dirandau stood to the right of Gatty, looking over at him with a horrid smirk on his face. He had obviously been planning this a long time and would enjoy it most heartily.  
"Then get going."  
Gatty bowed and left the room. His heart sunk at the thought of being stuck with Dirandau for the rest of his life however long that would be if he lived as a soldier. He prayed that Folken hadn't decided to let Dirandau mistreat him so. He intended to ask Lord Folken about it when he delivered his report.  
  
"Lord Folken, I don't understand what I have done to deserve such a thing," Gatty said, shocked to hear that Dirandau hadn't been lying.  
"Apparently you broke one of his rules," replied Folken. He worked on some of the paperwork that had built up on his desk while he had been away. He seemed altogether unconcerned with Gatty's plight.  
"What rule, sir?"  
"Apparently, he caught you sleeping with a girl." Folken was fond of the word 'apparently.' Sometimes if he didn't pay attention, he used it incessantly in conversation.  
"I didn't sleep with her. And I was not informed of this rule."  
"Apparently, then, the rule does not have to do with having a sexual relationship with someone else. I do not know what this rule is, perhaps you should ask him about it. And as for you not being informed, perhaps you should have looked further into his rules when you joined. I had assumed you would have done that, as it is in your nature to do so."  
"Sir, I couldn't learn all his rules. He wouldn't tell me and neither would the other soldiers. He doesn't have them written down. How was I supposed to find this out?"  
"You could have found a way."  
"Sir...." Gatty was completely frustrated. Folken was telling him to make the impossible true. The words of that nurse rang in his ears and he could now see that they would be coming true.  
"Sir, you are intelligent and wise. I do not see how you could allow things to be run this way." 

Folken sighed. He finally decided to bother with looking at Gatty while he spoke with him.  
"I have a lot of work to do, Gatty. Much of this work deals with Dirandau. He has strange ways and many needs. He causes me endless trouble. Keeping you from his anger has caused me quite a bit of trouble and I do not need it. You will have to fend for yourself, I'm afraid. I can do nothing. As you are good at dealing with ill-tempered leaders, I feel you will be fine.

"Easy for him to say. He's not the one who has to worry," Gatty thought angrily. He didn't think he'd have to take seriously Folken's earlier suggestion of figuring out some way to keep his new master from killing him.

"You are dismissed unless you have something further to add," Folken said.  
"Very well, sir. I will not dissapoint you," Gatty said with a bow. He didn't know why he bothered to worry about dissapointing others. Everyone was always dissapointing and abandoning him. He walked out the door and began that long walk back to the Dragonslayers wing. He prayed that Dirandau couldn't stay up for very long.

The first and second days were not so bad. The third was tolerable until Dirandau had decided that Gatty hadn't earned his meal for the day. The fourth left Gatty to feel so miserable that he would have welcomed Dirandau's execution. His uniform, lovely leather and vinyl thing that it was, bothered his skin, which would soon become rough and calloused if he were to continue so much activity. He felt so light-headed and dizzy that he couldn't lean over for fear of hitting the ground. Dirandau seemed perfectly fine. He had been yelling at Gatty all this time. Not a crack in his voice nor prolonged shutting of his eyelid came to pass. Miguel was forced to stay up as well. This was as much his punishment as it was Gatty's, for he had not prevented Gatty from going after that girl. He was still held accountable for Gatty's 'worthlessness' to some degree.  
On the seventh day, Gatty felt he could endure no more and dropped to his knees. Dirandau smiled when he saw that. Now for the fun!  
"You're so pathetic. Everyone here can outlast you by at least four days! Get up!"  
When Gatty did try to get up, Dirandau struck him to the ground.  
"Try again."  
Each time Gatty attempted to get up, Dirandau struck him down again. By about the tenth time, Gatty could see no point in trying it again.  
"So that's it. In weakness, you die. You give up on me. Someone tells you to die and you do it?! How pathetic is that?!?! Get up! I told you to get up, damnit! It's not hard, is it? You do it every fucking day! I ordered you to do one simple thing and you refuse to do it. It's not that you can't. It's that you won't. Gatty, you're going to die. Someone is going to kill you, and it won't be me. No, not me. Some enemy will stab you in the back when you aren't looking. Your death is imminent and all you can think of is how you're so damned tired and hurt. GET UP!!!!"  
Dirandau's voice thundered through the hall. The rest of the Dragonslayers heard his words, but were unafraid. They were comforted. No one else understood what Dirandau meant but them and they treasured his words.  
  
Gatty wanted to end this, end that screaming, to close the mouth those words came from. He wanted to kill or maim, to just do what he had to in order to end this. But all that would require getting up, something he seemed unable to do.  
  
"This is your life, you idiot! How dare you end it in such a foolish manner!" Dirandau knelt down next to Gatty, lifting his face to make certain he had Gatty's attention.  
"You will not die on me! Get up!"  
The expression on Dirandau's face was not the same one of vehement hatred that Gatty was used to. It was determination. This was different...what was this...? Dirandau had just thrown a wild-card in his direction and Gatty didn't know how to respond.  
"No Dragonslayer ever makes me repeat an order! Quit making me break that tradition. GET UP!"  
He'd just keep repeating it, wouldn't he? Was that the real punishment?  
"You will rise off this floor, in spirit or in flesh. You choose how."  
What was this? What -was- this? So strange...it made Gatty wonder why he wasn't even trying anymore. Dirandau made it seem so easy. It was so hard to keep yourself convinced when you couldn't talk and someone else was screaming the opposite of what you believed. It was so easy. Just get up....as easy as that...  
"Get up now," Dirandau repeated once more, showing that his patience had not run out. It seemed, in fact, to grow the longer that Gatty stayed on the ground.  
"Folken will never care about you again. You'll never see that girl again. Your old comrades don't want you. No one cares about you. No one will give you pity. So get up. Just get up."  
Gatty searched for the strength he suspected lay hidden within his body. He attempted to lift himself up once more. Dirandau was ready once more and struck him before he managed to move an inch. Gatty tried again, not sure if the voice screaming at him to get up was in his own head or if Dirandau was still yelling at him.  
Gatty could not blind himself to the pain. He somehow managed to accept it. Pain was a part of reality, as were nightly dreams and breathing. It simply was. He managed to sit up. Dirandau relented a moment, waiting to see how much Gatty could do. He continued screaming at Gatty to get up and, finally, his orders were obeyed.  
Gatty stood at a semblance of attention. He swayed back and forth, his head bowed and his eyes closed.  
"....Standing....as ordered...sir..."  
Dirandau smiled at him.  
"So, you can carry out a simple task." There was a pleased and playful tone in Dirandau's voice. Gatty wondered if perhaps he had impressed Dirandau.  
"I think you've earned a nap, don't you, Gatty?"  
"Yes, sir," Gatty said. There were no words to describe how much he agreed.  
Dirandau smiled and laughed in that gleeful manner that seemed so strangely suited to accompany him in his murderous ways. He knelt down and picked up a practice sword.  
"Congratulations," Dirandau said. He took a stance next to Gatty and gave him one hell of a hit to the back of the head. Gatty fell, of course, and became unconscious. Dirandau ordered that he be taken to medical where he could be looked after. He then turned his attention to Miguel, who had been enjoying not having the attention turned on him for a short time.  
"Put your sword away. We run."  
"Yes, sir," Miguel said. He despised running and wished he had never let Dirandau know that. He cursed that little off-hand conversation they'd had in which he mentioned that as he rushed off to follow Dirandau's orders.

(((Authors notes:

I would like to state that I don't hate Gatty. I like him. And not just in an "I like to torment him" sort of way. I find him interesting and I can identify with him. As such he has to suffer my wrath. So sorry. Anyway, on to the note...

This note will consist of future story ideas, and the replies to reviewers.

I'm thinking that there are maybe three or four more chapters to this story. I've got to work on the rest of the storyline. As with Dirandau is my Sister, I haven't decided upon the ending yet. But then, usually when I don't decide upon the ending until it nears that time, it comes out better. (I believe that next chapter I will be talking more about the tiara, because I didn't explaine it as much here as I thought I was going to.)

I have enjoyed this story very much, but they always have to end at some time. I'll have another story sometime that will reach at least the ten chapter mark. I'm hoping right now that it is "I see, said the Blind Man."

I've been contemplating writing several other fics as well Yeah, yeah, too many fics get started and not enough get follow-through.

One would involve Allen after Balgust took him in and began his training. I would like to do this one because no one ever seems to like him at all, and I would really like to change that.

Another that I've been thinking on for some time comes from a dream I had and is dubbed "Behind the closet doors." This happened around the same time as Inconvenient situation. It invovled general Adelphus deciding to fake Dirandau's death and kidnapping him. I was contemplating possibly using this as a continuation for Inconvenient situation, since so many people love that story and I have no inspiration for continuing it. But, that doesn't ahve the same feeling as Inconvenient Situation, so I don't know.

And yet another involves the sorcerers. As I understand it, just about everyone hates them. However, I can understand their side of the story. And I always like to be able to show other people my unique perspective. This would be a fun challenge since so many people do dislike them. I have a chapter and a half written, and plan to post it when I have at least three.

Another idea I have toyed around with but not seriously thought about is something to give people a good perspective of Dornkirk.

That most likely will never happen because I can't ever get his personality right so I won't even try.

I also, of course, have the option of continuing Eternity and Thank your recruiter, though I haven't had any inspiration for those in awhile.

Those are my future plans in regard to FFN stories.

Okay. Review time.

I'll start with reviews from chapter nine I don't think I replied to those...

Aurebec - Thank you very much. Compliments are always well-received. And I do plan to continue this story. You're right, Migueru didn't deserve that demotion. At least, not one of that magnitude. However, he really isn't what Dirandau needs for a second. But, don't worry. I doubt that Dirandau and Migueru will hate eachother forever. If they did, then why would he kill the doppleganger over Miguel's death?

DragonSteel - Heh. Don't worry. Gatty will be safe. Folken's not going to let anything really horrible happen to him. I think maybe more people don't review because the story doesn't stay up near the front of the site long enough for them to get a chance to notice it.

Marty - No, I'm not tired of this fic. I've been living in a way that I'd rather not for some time. But now that's changed. Hopefully it has changed for the better. I love my works and plan on continuing them until they are either finished or I lose inspiration. This one should reach a proper conclusion.

Jhaylin - Well, part A of your question has been answered in this chapter. As for part two, I'm not sure what you're talking about. I think you're referring to when Gatty was found all battered and bruised from that lovely fencing workout. If it were ever brought to his attention, Gatty would inform Folken that he had not been beaten by Dirandau. However, it is not likely a topic to come up. Folken already has his assumption and Dirandau wouldn't want to speak of it again. This, in Folken's eyes, is just one event in a timeline of things. Dirandau has a history of violence against everyone, regardless of whether he hates or loves them. He would expect Dirandau to do something like this.

Threshie - Well, I always thought that Dirandau had a bit of a vulgar streak in him and that perhaps it would have been even stronger when he was younger. He's not exactly spoiled. He's more of a controlled experiment. So, he has some good things going for him, like people worrying about doing everything he says. But he does have a lot of miserable things to deal with. The inability to truly decide things for oneself or to remember things from day to day is a pitiful thing.

Those reactions to love were my own and I thought they would fit Dirandau as well. He does seem proper enough about everything to feel that way, anyway.

I agree that Gatty's constantly pointing things out is a factor in why Dirandau hits him so much. This is only one version of Esca that I keep in my head. I had wondered about the fact that none of the other Dragonslayers ever say anything, and they don't seem to think for themselves either. How, if he were to be in that environment as long as the others were, would Gatty have been able to gain a mind of his own? One solution is to simply put him in a different environment and have him join them later, and that is the solution I chose to write about.

::Snickers::

And never underestimate my penchant for violence in writing. I am certain that some people who read my writings must think that I beat people up quite a bit. I suppose I am that way, but only if I have complete control over a situation. Then I can be quite the ruthless dictator.

...- I hope I spelled your name right.

I won't be putting it on hiatus anytime soon.

And now, my two velly good friends for last.

InfamousLordDilandau

Thanks much. I love this fic, but it's not my favorite. I think maybe mine would be either DIMS or Inconvenient Situation. Hmm....I dunno. I like all my stories, actually...

I'm glad you like this fic and I'll be sure to keep you posted on whenever I get a new chapter done.

Shelley Quills Webster(AKA: Sei)

Aww....you didn't like him before?

Okay, that's it for today. Oh!  
I was re-reading some of the reviews I've had in the past 71 for Dirandau is my sister! YEAH!. I noticed a few people saying that I do not describe things very well. I was wondering if anyone has noticed whether or not I've improved on that. If not, I was wondering if anyone had any suggestions for improving on that.

Also, another member of FFN put this site up on Fate's  
It has lovely goodness involving injuries. Lady Thompson thoroughly enjoys this little webpage and has been inspired to attempt to be more realistic in fic injuries. (After all, my characters get them so often, it'd be nice if I were doing it right.)


	12. Chapter 11

A nice long chapter this time.  At this point, I don't know if it will only be a few more chapters or not.  Readers may be blessed with a longer story than intended!

On with the fic.  Bon apetite.

Gatty awoke in medical. He strained to open his eyes and attempted to force himself to sit up. However, he was not able to accomplish this. He fell back down onto the bed.   
"You shouldn't try to sit up on your own. Not yet. Just relax. I'm sure it is hard for you to be calm when you're here with nothing to do, but you've got to try."   
"What-"   
"Shh, shh...don't try talking now. Just rest."   
A hot cup of coffee was poured for him.   
"Are you thirsty?"   
He recognized the voice of the woman he had spoken with while visiting Shesta. He nodded yes in reply to her question. She helped him to sit up. He saw that next to him was a steaming hot cup of coffee.   
"Did you want anything else in your coffee?"   
"....what?"   
Gatty had never known anything but black coffee. Limited supplies prevented him from doing so.   
The nurse smiled and added some sugar to it. She asked him if he was ready for something to drink. When he nodded yes, she held the cup to his lips. He had never known coffee to taste as good as that. It helped him to forget the immense amount of pain he was in for a moment.   
She set the cup down next to him.   
"I'll be back in a little while with something for you to eat."

Gatty mulled over things while she was away. He remembered what he'd said...that he'd never end up here. He wouldn't be like the others. And here he was, injured, broken, lying in a bed at the medical ward and being spoken to soothingly by a woman who felt nothing but pity for him.   
Broken...was he really broken? No, not quite. Not completely. Only slightly, and he was fixable. He started on another mind-numbing thought, but was unable to finish before passing once more into unconscousness.

He spent two weeks in medical and returned to Dirandau full strength, ready to take more.

"Fantastic! A few more battles, and we'll have hit twenty five!" Dirandau announced victoriously. Gatty had just delivered an order that another attack was scheduled in two days. It had been a wonderful start. The Dragonslayers still had quite a ways to go, but Dirandau was generally very pleased with their success.   
Dirandau was about to leave, but Gatty interrupted him.   
"Sir, the general wishes you to meet with his messenger. The General has urgent matters to discuss with you."

Dirandau glared at Gatty. "Why doesn't he ever talk to me himself? It's not as if I'm not one of his subordinates. It makes no sense."   
Gatty knew the truth, but veiled it from Dirandau. He couldn't say anything, even if he wanted to. He had been ordered to keep that lie the same as everyone else. Simple really. All you had to do was tell yourself it never happened. No one would tell you otherwise. No one acted as if you weren't telling the truth. And after awhile, you could believe yourself too. After all, how does one measure truth but by how one's surroundings match up to one's ideals and memories?

"Sir, I do not know, sir," Gatty said. "He may have a problem with some of your battle strategies, or perhaps-"   
Gatty knew the look Dirandau was giving him all too well by now. He shut his mouth and stood at perfect attention again.   
"How many times must I explain to you the concept of a rhetorical question?"   
"Sir, the manuals of protocol dictate that there is no such thing as a rhetorical question and as such, subordinates must answer all questions asked by their commanding officers, sir."   
"So you're telling me I'm wrong?"   
"...Yes, sir," Gatty said. He had grown to hate that question. How could he say otherwise? If he said no, that would bring into question why he had just said everything preceding that statement. If he said yes, that meant he had just called Dirandau a liar. "Gatty, retrieve this manual that you always speak of."   
"Yes, sir," Gatty said. He broke from his status of attention and walked to his office. He then pulled down the precious manual and gave it to Dirandau, who had followed him. Dirandau flipped through it once or twice.   
"Sir, the subject in question is on pa-"   
The manual flew at Gatty full-speed, hitting him in the jaw. He closed his mouth, fighting the urge to nurse that new injury.

Dirandau leaned his hands on the desk palms down.   
"The manuals are wrong, Gatty. Do you not understand this? They are wrong! You work for me. You do as I say, not what some book tells you. I outrank books by a long-shot. Something that can be so easily broken, destroyed...you trust that more than you trust me? Why do you persist in being so rude to me?"   
Gatty took in a deep breath. He always used the same line of explanation for this question.   
"Sir, in basic training, all recruits are given manuals to study and take to heart. It is one of our traditions," he said. Zaibach was new to such traditions, however the young soldiers had not known anything else for their entire lives, and so they could not help believing that things had always been this way.   
"I asked you why you use the book, not why you have it!"   
"Sir, those books were written by several generals who had seen many battles. The information inside each manual comes from a wise, battle-worn individual. It has been proven that intelligent societies are those in which the elders are trusted."

Dirandau slammed his fist down onto the desk.   
"Do you intend to insult me with every answer you give?"   
Gatty was nearly unable to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Dirandau was so paranoid. Everything he said was turned this way or that.   
"Sir, that was not my intent, sir."   
"I hear it all the time from others. I don't need to hear it from you. Not from someone who has already tried my patience to the breaking point and beyond. They mavey have more time in the army than I do, but that does not make me any less of a leader than they are. I was born to do this job and I intend to do it to be best of my ability. And you will help me, like it or not. Whether it is with your will or against it, you're going to help me. Stop resisting this idea and we can move on."   
"Sir, I said no such thing. You have inferred more than is reasonable, sir."   
Gatty still had hopes that Dirandau would see reason and stop acting the way he always did. His hope was wounded once more when Dirandau picked up the book and whapped Gatty across the face with it.   
Dirandau spoke slowly. "That is what you told me. If you don't want me to infer things from your words, then do not say them. Anything you say that comes from your own mind is something which I have every right to judge and make assumptions about. So don't say anything unless you want me to be angry with you. Is that understood?"   
"....."   
"I said, is that understood?"   
"No sir, it is NOT understood. I can not understand how you could have me as your second in command, a position which demands an advisory role, without allowing me the chance to offer advice or at the very least offer ideas that you have not thought of or heard yet. This is not the job of a second in command, sir."   
"Is that what it says in your manuals?"   
"Sir, have you read them, sir?"   
"Are you questioning me?"   
"...yes, sir."   
"Why?!"   
"So much that you do is questionable, sir."

Gatty had expected a hit or injury of some kind. However, Dirandau did nothing. He simply stared into Gatty's eyes with a horrid angry look on his face. Gatty knew that Dirandau was highly intelligent but had no idea what he meant to infer from staring into Gatty's eyes.   
"Gatty..."   
"Yes, sir?"   
"Do you really believe everything you just said?"   
"Yes, sir."   
"Everything?"   
"Yes, sir."   
"And you believe nothing of what I say?"   
"That is not true, sir. I simply stated that you are wrong sometimes."   
"Very well. You believe that some things I say are correct and that the others are in conflict with what your manuals say?"   
"Yes, sir."   
"You use these manuals for everything?"   
"Yes, sir. That is what I am supposed to do, sir."   
Gatty took it for granted that all Zaibach soldiers should know the manuals by heart. He assumed that only a few who stood out felt they were above such paltry rules. Little did he know that no one ever read them.   
"Gatty, you may leave. Find Shesta, Dallet and Guimel, and order them to come here. After that, report to Folken and give him a transcript of this conference."   
"Yes, sir."   
Dirandau laughed at him.   
"Oh? You're not even going to ask why you should do all those things I told you to do?"   
"...No, sir."   
"But I thought you questioned everything," Dirandau said, smirking.   
"No, sir. I question those things which are questionable."   
"How poetic. How utterly poetic." Dirandau laughed. "Well, then. My handsome, young, debonaire poetic strumpet, you must be off now. Go do as I told you. In that order. And don't change anything about those orders, either."   
"Yes, sir," Gatty said, bowing. He walked out, very glad to be leaving.

When Gatty returned to his office, he found it completely re-arranged and with many of its contents missing. He was bewildered by this.   
Dirandau sat in his chair, contemplating which space on the shelf he should use for a book entitled, "The Human Anatomy and its Weaknesses." "What did Folken say?" asked Dirandau, not bothering to look up from his present activity.   
"Sir, Lord Folken told me that your games are your own personal business and not to involve him unless there is a good deal of damage to Zaibach property, other than the Dragonslayers."   
"And did he say anything to you personally?"   
"...Yes, sir.."   
"What was it?"   
"Sir, he told me that...he expected to see me in medical quite often."   
Dirandau laughed.   
"I wouldn't doubt that," Dirandau said.   
Dirandau placed the book on the shelf next to a book about the many different angles one can use to vary the use of the sword.   
"Are you upset about how I've re-done this office?"   
"No, sir."   
"Don't lie to me."   
"I am not upset, sir. I am confused as to why you have done this."

Dirandau smirked.   
"Gatty, I want you to take a look at the books on this shelf."   
Gatty did so and made a horrid discovery. This discovery was evident on his face. His jaw nearly fell off when it dropped, still hurt from earlier. This look pleased Dirandau very much.   
"My, my, Gatty. You do look a bit ill. Perhaps you ought to return to medical. Do you think you'll survive?"   
Gatty wanted to throw up. However, he knew this would not help his situation along.   
"Sir, I will survive, sir."   
Dirandau gave a haughty smirk.   
"Are you absolutely certain?"   
"Yes, sir."   
"You're not going to curl up and die?"   
"No sir."   
Why did he have to keep asking? It was painful to answer. Gatty didn't know what he would do about this...His manuals...how could he do without them?! Gatty was full of panick, something he rarely suffered.   
"You've seen the situation and assessed it. And you know you'll be fine?"   
"Yes, sir."   
"And you can do things on your own?"   
"...no, sir..."   
"Oh? Explain why."   
"Sir, thought I know them well, I do not have my manuals memorized completely. Without them, I will not be able to discern what to do in certain situations."   
Dirandau laughed.   
"Looks like you're in a bit of a bind." Dirandau said, leaning back in the chair, looking quite at ease.   
"You don't do well without a script, do you?"   
Gatty was silent. Dirandau was simply making fun of him. He couldn't stand this. Dirandau was completely unprofessional and always playing those damned games. A lovely cycle it was. One is toyed with and then proceeds to toy with others. Those that one toys with will turn around and toy with still more others, and so it goes. Eventually, we are all toyed with and wondering why. But all we'd need to do is look at eachother and see.   
"Oh, so you can't talk if you don't have your precious books to tell you what to say? I swear, you're just like that idiot Folken. He'd waste away if he didn't have his books. I don't get it. They're just books. I can destroy them. The spirit is stronger than any fucking book."   
Dirandau put his feet up on Gatty's desk.   
"I guess you are weaker than these books. And you know what I think of them. I can destroy them so easily. So that means I can simply destroy you. You're going to let me do that? You're letting yourself be so fucking weak that I could kill you without thought, without reason, without provocation. You're giving up. That's fine. You might as well. You'll die anyway and where will that leave me? In fact, let me take care of that now. If you're going to die, let's just take care of that now."   
Dirandau jumped up on top of the desk and over onto the other side, taking Gatty completely by surprise.   
"Alright, stay still so I can kill you."   
Dirandau drew his sword. Gatty was petrified by the confusion of all this. Dirandau couldn't be serious. Ah, but then Folken was going to let him do whatever he wanted, wasn't he? ...but if Dirandau still wanted to kill him, what was that training session about? Gatty had about ten seconds to discover the truth to all this. In the end, he gave up and decided that surviving was more important.   
"No, sir. I will not!"   
Gatty tried to run, but Dirandau blocked his exit. He had no choice but to fight. Gatty drew his sword just in time to block Dirandau's first blow. Gatty was by no means a graceful or skilled swordsman, but he did well enough to last for a minute. He could not be expected to last long in a fight against the Captain, however. Dirandau's strokes were powerful and Gatty had immense difficulty in holding his sword against them. In his last effort, the sword was forced from Gatty's hand. He received a deep gash in his right arm. Gatty gave a cry of surprise. He had never been cut like that before. He had read several medical textbooks, but none gave gave any indication that these cuts stung so much.   
"So are you going to die or what?"   
Dirandau had paused in his movements to glare at Gatty, who was clutching his wounded arm. Gatty stared back at him with exhausted eyes. Was there to be no end to this insanity? The look that met his eyes indicated 'no'   
"Gatty, are you really this fucking thickheaded?"   
Gatty attempted to answer but he was backhanded before a word was uttered. He fell into the desk and lay to rest in an awkward position.   
"I told you to defend yourself. Maybe you didn't hear me. You will DIE if you don't defend yourself."   
Gatty attempted to stand up, still clutching his arm.   
"Sir, I can't....I won't win...you know you're better at this than I am, sir..."   
Dirandau plessed the tip of his sword against Gatty's throat.   
"Then you die."   
"Sir, you can't expect me to defeat you!"   
"I don't," Dirandau said as he pressed the blade harder, breaking the skin.   
"Sir, I need to go to medical for this injury. It will get infected."   
"That doesn't matter because you're going to die."   
"Sir you can't kill me. You need me."   
"I am able to kill and have you under my control. The laws of science and probability tell me that you are a fool and a liar."   
"Sir, if you are so intent upon killing me, then please do so. I have no further argument."   
Dirandau's free hand clenched into a fist. His lips curled in disgust and anger. He removed his sword from Gatty's throat.   
"You are such a failure," he said as he walked away.

Gatty gave one more look towards the bookshelf before walking down to medical. He still had little idea what Dirandau had been talking about.

Dirandau sat with his arms crossed, looking at the wall opposite Setso.   
"You're not listening to me."   
"I am listening. I have looked into this matter and I am telling you exactly what I have been instructed to tell you. You can't do this anymore."   
"Fuck you..."   
"You could at least try to maintain some semblance of diplomacy. I may be one of your peers, but I do outrank you."   
Dirandau still refused to look at him.   
"I need to do this. There is no law against it. Why is there such a problem?"   
"Zaibach does not authorize mandates of religion."   
"This is not religion."   
"It is a religious service."   
"No! It is in the STYLE of a religious service! It's completely different."   
"You are asking them to view you as a god."   
Dirandau stood up, knocking his chair over. His handmovements were dramatic. He was fit to kill at the moment, for he had little he could think to do to cool his burning anger.   
"I am doing no such thing! You've never attended, so you wouldn't know! You don't know the first thing about leading people and keeping them motivated. No one fucking understands! Everything I try to do, everyone fights against."   
Dirandau leaned close to Setso, very near his face.   
"And why am I not allowed to talk to the General myself? Why do I have to talk to his office boy? I am one of his captains, so why does he persist in ignoring me so?"   
"You have a reputation for rudeness and he does not wish to deal with this," Setso said as he reached a hand towards Dirandau's forehead. He pulled the tiara off of Dirandau's head and looked at it.   
"What is this?"   
Dirandau snatched it back.   
"It is mine, that's what it is."   
"That isn't authorised. Where did you get it?"   
"Why does that matter?"   
"Because you have no permission to wear such a thing and there is no record of you having acquired that piece of jewelry."   
"Why should I tell you?"   
"Because I ordered you to."   
"You're just a messenger boy. You have no power."

It pained Setso to see Dirandau this way. He missed how Dirandau used to be. Bright, energetic, happy. He wasn't so damned rude to him. He actually held some measure of respect for him. Now the only people he bothered to respect were General Adelphus and Emperor Dornkirk, and the respect for Adelphus was waining. It seemed that the more he dealt with people, the less he could deal with them. He would become completely jaded some day. Perhaps he wouldn't even care about his men then. He wouldn't care about the emperor. He wouldn't care about anything. What would happen to him then? No pride, no dignity, no drive. Emotionless and lifeless, without motive or feeling. The army would kill him eventually. His spirit, troubled as it was, would never last under such constraints.

"I need only report your lack of cooperation to the General. He will then have you severely punished. We all know how much you love being put on restriction."   
"....."   
"Dirandau, why are you doing this? I came down here to give you a review of your conduct and battle success. You respond by barraging me with some old request that has been denied at least ten times."   
"Because I know I'm doing well and I'm sick of no one listening to me. Damnit...you idiots leave me here alone and then expect me to do perfectly fine. I do not appreciate being abandoned like this! If I have to ask permission for things and no one replies, how the hell am I supposed to get things done?"   
"You'll get them done the same way everyone else does. Without question or complaint."   
"No, I'll do them the right way. My way. You want to tell me what the fuck to do, you come down here to do it. You don't send me your damned little messages. Especially if they are full of insults like they have been as of late. I will hold my services and that is all there is to it."   
He placed the tiara back upon his head.   
"I will wear this because no one can force me not to. You can order me to, but unless someone higher orders me to and gives me reason for it, I will not take it off."   
Setso sighed. Dirandau had a perfectly good argument. No one was going to do anything. There was only so much they could force him to do. Like a spoiled prince, no advisor could force him to re-think his actions.   
"And where will you hold these services?"   
"I will find something suitable for a chapel. If nothing else, I will use my throne room."   
"The General will not be happy about this."   
"So?"   
"He's your leader."   
"He isn't leading me. He's doing nothing for me. He won't even see me. Hell, at least Folken will talk to me. The general doesn't even bother to let me come to him. I don't give a damn anymore. Let him live or die. It has no effect on me."   
"Dirandau, you're sounding so traitorous these days."   
"On the contrary, I am one of the few that is not betraying Zaibach. Everyone else has their personal agendas and they are getting in the way. All the things I do, I do for my country. I do them for my men and together, we accomplish the missions which Zaibach needs us to."   
Dirandau stood up.   
"I'm leaving now. I won't wait for your order, nor will I ask you for permission. You wouldn't give it to me anyway. I bid you goodbye."   
Setso sighed. He then marked on one of his papers that Dirandau was now completely unruly.

Gatty had a lovely time with the nurse from medical. She was sweet to him. She saw something different in him and wished to cherish that while it lasted. He spoke to her about politics, the weather, what have ye. She listened to it all without showing signs of her boredom. She wanted to let him think at least one person was interested in what he had to say. All these boys were so lonely and she tried to help fill their voids. If only she realized she was unable.   
Gatty smiled at her.   
"Mind telling me your name, miss?"   
"Heiko."   
"That's a lovely name. Where are you from?"   
"Here," she said as she rose from her seat to go put things away. She did not want to discuss herself. The last time she did that, the man she was talking with became so attached that he killed himself because she could not stay with him all the time.

Gatty was about to ask her more, but she was saved by a happy circumstance. Dirandau had barged his way into medical.   
"Finished?"   
"Yes, sir."   
"Then why the hell are you sitting around here?"   
Heiko spoke up timidly. She always acted strangely about him. She didn't know how to feel...he was...well..he hurt these boys so very much. But he had his reasons, pointless as they were.   
"Sir, he needed to rest a moment. I didn't want him to pass out."   
"He's in training. He's supposed to pass out."   
Heiko bowed.   
"I apologize, sir."   
"Of course."   
On the whole, Dirandau was exceedingly generous to Heiko. Gatty didn't understand it. He wondered if perhaps Dirandau and Heiko were in some illicit love affair...but that didn't fit. Dirandau, have a love affair? After the trouble he'd put Gatty through over that girl? But then there was no explanation. He looked at the two looking at eachother, these three pairs of eyes each betraying and hiding their own complicated emotions.   
"Is he fit to leave?"   
"Yes, sir."   
"Wonderful! Come with me, Gatty. We've got something important to do."   
Gatty was saddened by the fact that he had to leave Heiko and the medical ward. It really was quite a relaxing place.   
Dirandau took Gatty to his throne room and ordered him to stand at attention at the front. Gatty assumed this was one of their usual meetings, in which they were lectured on their performance.  It was strange, however, that they had all been ordered to sit cross-legged.  Dirandau never allowed them to sit.   
He leaned towards Shesta.   
"What's going on?"   
"Oh, something very good!" Shesta said, smiling. He always loved these services. Most of the Dragonslayers did. Miguel thought they were a waste of time, but he was, for the most part, alone.   
"What is it, exactly?" He supposed that if Shesta liked it, it couldn't be all that bad.

Shesta didn't have time to answer him. Dirandau took his place at the front of the group. He took their role and the service began. 

Note:  All lines in parenthesis are repeated by the Dragonslayers.  All other lines are said by Dirandau.   
"All rise.

For the future (For the future.)

For peace (For peace)

For Gaea (For Gaea)

Be seated.

We gather in this hallowed room to draw upon the strength of our brothers and of our heritage. Our people are strong, and this is why we live today. Through war and strife, our people have always prevailed.

Let us be thankful.   
(Let us be thankful.)

Let us be loyal.   
(Let us be loyal)

Let us take this time to think upon our lives and our purpose. There is a purpose for each of us, inscribed and recorded for the good of Zaibach. All rise.

((Break for hymn))

Let us hail the morning victory with an inner light.   
Let us hail the morning victory with an inner light.

Let us find strength in our great Emperor.   
Let us find strength in our Lord.   
Let us find strength in our brothers.   
Let us find strength in our countrymen.

Let us hail the morning victory with an inner light.   
Let us hail the morning victory with an inner light.

((End of hymn))

Be seated.

In times of fear, we must remember who it is we work for.   
(We work for our Emperor, our Lord, our people, ourselves)   
We must remember what it is we work for.   
(We work for peace)   
We must remember that we will prevail.   
(And be victorious)   
We must not give in to the fear.   
(To give in is to betray.)

All rise.

((Break for hymn))

In times of fear, we shall remember and we shall be victorious.   
In times of strife, we shall persevere.   
In times of need, we shall aid others.   
We shall be victorious, righteous and good.   
We shall be victorious, righteous and good.

((End of hymn))

Let us remember the truths we are to hold fast to (And those that presented them to us.)

Let us remember the four standards of perfection (That we may achieve perfection in all we do.)

Motivation (Motivation)   
Ability (Ability)   
Attention to detail (Attention to detail)   
Devotion (Devotion)

Perfection is necessary to our goals (And should always be strived for.)

Perfection is necessary to our goals (And must be achieved.)"

Gatty was, for the most part, horrified by this. Zaibach soldiers were supposed to be very loyal and loving of their country, but these men were...psychotic. After they were dismissed Gatty walked over to Dirandau, who was putting his papers in order.   
"Sir...I request to speak with you about this meeting."   
"If you would like to apologize for your previous foolishness, do not bother."   
"No, sir, I don't have any apology to offer."   
"What is it you want, then?"   
"Sir, I must request that you not involve me in these meetings any longer."   
Dirandau stared at Gatty.   
"Why not?"   
"I am an atheist, sir."   
"Yeah? So am I. So what?"   
"Sir, as an atheist, I desire not to be forced into attending religious services."   
Dirandau threw his papers onto the ground, which was a shame because they had been in perfect order and were now scattered.   
"What the fuck is wrong with you people?! THIS IS NOT A RELIGIOUS SERVICE!! It is merely an exercise in motivation and maintaining pride!"   
He did not seem so much angry at Gatty as he was frustrated that no one understood him or what he was doing.   
"Sir, I apologize, howe-"   
"I don't want your apology."   
"Then I shall not give it again, sir."   
"You have learned nothing from me."   
"It is not your teaching methods, sir. That I can assure you."   
Dirandau rubbed his forehead.   
"You are a complete failure. How do you not understand? I scream it right at you and you still don't hear me."   
Dirandau crossed his arms. He started for the door.   
"I want those papers in order in my office within the hour. After that, go do something. Anything, I don't care what. You are useless to me. Absolutely useless. That is why I won't hit you now. I won't beat you. I won't even touch you. Because you won't learn from it. You can't learn, it seems. You can't...or you won't. And I can't work with someone who doesn't understand me. If I could, Folken and I would get along just fine. So go do what you do. Waste your time with that wench if you like. Neglect your training and don't bother learning my rules. It's not like you'll be doing much. You're going to die soon anyway, so it won't matter if you learned or not."

Dirandau left, angry and depressed. He wondered if perhaps Folken would relent and allow him to get rid of Gatty now. However, he didn't want that. He saw that perhaps there was some potential in Gatty. All he needed to do was to make the idiotic man understand him. But that was proving so impossible. Dirandau wondered if maybe it was himself. He had taught the other Dragonslayers well, trained them to be exactly what a soldier is supposed to be. But Gatty...his techiniques didn't work with him. He thought perhaps they were going to work when Gatty had actually managed to continue getting up in that first breaking down exercise. But every attempt after that to reach him had failed. And as each excersize failed, so did Dirandau.

"There has to be a way," Dirandau said to himself as he drank his nightly bit of wine. "There has to be."

I wrote a good deal of this fic with the songs "I will survive" on repeat. I think that song is slightly fitting for this whole fic. Um...minus the fact that the characters normally don't know whether or not they will survive, as well as the fact that they have not overcome their mental incapacitations and their horrid past injuries.

Response to reviewers.

Jhaylin -  I haven't decided when this story will end yet.  It will not stop before the series, though.  It may continue a little after that.  I'm not sure how long after that, however.

Threshie - Heh.  But I like the Madoushi.

Shelley Quills Webster - ::Makes pretty puppy eyes at Shelley Quills Webster.::  Thank you much, snuggle-bunny.


End file.
